Much Ado About Vulcan
by thearrowsoflegolas
Summary: A story of love, laughs and logarithms. Alex Birchwood is stuck with the math elective in her final year of medical training, a class that happens to be taught by the most disagreeable Vulcan she has ever had the misfortune of meeting, Commander Spock. Spock and Alex take an instant dislike to each other, but as circumstances push them closer together, will these feelings change?
1. A Dissapointing Discovery

The alarm rang with a blaring whistle, and I sighed deeply, before slamming it roughly with my hand, switching it off. Five O'bloody clock. Too early to wake up, too late to go back to sleep. I had to be early today, though. Today was the first day of my 5th year in Starfleet, the last year of my medical training. At the end of this year, I would be a doctor.

Dr. Alex Birchwood.

I liked the sound of that.

Yawning, I dragged myself out of bed and towards my small bathroom, looked in the mirror and groaned. I looked like shit. My dark curly hair, usually styled in a long plait down my right shoulder, was sticking up in all directions, making my already pale face look even paler, and my light blue eyes were surrounded by the black smudge of yesterday's unwashed mascara. I ran my fingers through my unruly hair, trying in vain to slightly decrease the volume of it, before giving up, and switching on my shower.

"Waatimes it?" I heard a slurred mumble from outside the bathroom door.

"What?" I yelled back, peeling off my pyjamas and stepping into the stream of hot water.

"What time is't Alex?" Came the voice again, slightly more comprehensible this time.

"Ten past five. Get your green ass out of bed, T'yonga. It's learnin' time."

"GAAAHHHHHH" came the annoyed scream from T'yonga, my Orion roommate.

As roommates go, she was a pretty good one. She was two years older than me, at twenty five, and despite constantly leaving our shared accommodation in a state that made it look like the Somme, was one of the best friends I could ask for. Yes, living with her meant that my bathroom was constantly covered in dark green foundation and pink lipstick, but what she lacked in cleanliness, she made up for in enthusiasm and counsel. I could always rely on her to make me feel better in a scrape.

I bent down and grabbed the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount onto my hand, and massaging it into my scalp, relaxing as the scent of apple bubbles filled my nostrils. Rinsing it off, I watched the green bubbles make their way down the plughole, which was blocked with strands of T'yonga's bright red hair. I applied conditioner, rinsed, then switched the shower off, stepping out into the steamy bathroom, and beginning to brush the knots out of my long hair.

I wrapped a towel around myself, then stepped out of the bathroom to be faced with a flash of green skin.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE T'YONGA!" I yelled, spinning around and closing my eyes, "CLOTHES. THEY ARE A WONDERFUL THING."

She laughed, a low husky sound, I heard her walk off, her feet padding on the wooden floor, "You're just jealous of my ample bosom,"

"My bosom is perfectly ample, thank you very much," I replied, hiding a giggle with a cough.

I turned around to a (thankfully) empty room, and dropped my towel, rooting in my dresser for underwear. I settled on a plain black set, before taking my blue regulation Starfleet shirt out of my wardrobe. I slipped it on and said a quick thank-you to whatever deity was out there that it still fit, as I'd put on a few pounds over the summer. I wiggled into a pair of skinny black jeans and put on my black boots, before chucking a black leather jacket into my satchel, and following T'yonga into our little kitchen. As much as I complained about it, the student accommodation in Starfleet was pretty decent.

I had been nervous when I had moved from London to America five years ago to pursue my dream of becoming a doctor on a Starship, but despite my apprehensions, I had been greeted with nothing but welcoming smiles and rooms with en suite bathrooms.

T'yonga was sat on the kitchen counter, thankfully in underwear, a black and pink lacy number that I was sure did not pass Starfleet dress code regulations.

"Chuck us the milk, would you?" I asked, as I opened a cupboard and took out a plastic container of cereal.

I poured myself a bowl, and ducked just in time to stop a two litre bottle of milk slamming into my skull. It whizzed past me and slammed into the wall behind me, falling to the floor.

"IT'S AN EXPRESSION!" I yelled, my heart banging in my ears. "I DID NOT LITERALLY MEAN 'CHUCK'!"

She laughed, and I walked over to the milk on the floor, picking it up and unscrewing the cap before pouring a generous amount on my cereal and digging in with a spoon.

"Orions don't-" T'yonga started

"-Have metaphors, yeah, I get it, ok. Try not to decapitate me with dairy products next time."

She grinned, before jumping off the counter and sashaying into the shared bedroom.

"So what's going on with your elective this year?" I heard her ask, her voice muffled by the wooden door between us.

My elective, of course. I'd almost forgot. In the final year, all Maths or Science students could pick an 'elective'. A subject to study alongside their main one for the year.

"Well, I put my name down for Biochemistry, but it's always the most popular, so I can't be sure of getting it."

"Whos's it with?"

"Professor McCormack." I responded, waiting for the shitstorm that was to follow.

"McCORMACK!" T'yonga yelled, peeking her head out from behind the door, her red curls bouncing up and down in excitement, "OH HE IS _GORGEOUS_!"

"And a member of the faculty…" I reminded her.

"I can't believe you got McCormack you lucky bastard," she continued, ignoring my voice of reason, "I'd let him study _my_ biochemistry any day of the week."

I couldn't help but laugh, as she bounced out of the bedroom in her own red dress, her long legs looking even longer in the 3 inch heels that she had slipped on.

I raised an eyebrow at them and she snickered.

"Rules are made to be broken, Alex…"

"I don't even know if I've _got_ McCormack this year," I continued, taking out my PADD and logging on with my Starfleet username, "It was the most requested elective last year, and they go by first come first serve."

"Well of _course_ it was the most requested! It's taught by an Irish god who's face was carved by angels. I swear, that man could talk to me about _shipping forecasts_ and I'd be enthralled."

I rolled my eyes and placed my PADD on the kitchen table, quickly scraping my thick hair into a long plait down my shoulder, and freeing a few dark curls to frame my face, before looking back to my PADD, which had finished loading.

"Sooo…?" encouraged T'yonga, "Are you going to have a dip into McCormack's pot of gold or not?"

I shook my head and smiled at her, "You are incorrigible," before tapping the screen to bring up my timetable.

Shit.

"I've not got Biochem." I said, disappointment running through me.

"Awww babe…" replied T'yonga.

"Shit. I was looking forward to that…"

"Well what _have_ you got?"

"Maths." I said dismally.

"M _ath_ ," she emphasised the lack of an 's'. "You're in America, darling. Jam is jelly, scones are biscuits, chips are fries and maths is math."

I smiled at her, "You're from an entirely different _planet_ 'yonga, don't give me that redneck pride."

"Who've you got math with then?" she asked, "It better not be Professor Dilligen, because I swear that guy tried to cop a feel of my ass two years ago. "

"No, it's not with Dilligen," I said.

"Then who's it with, stop leaving me hanging…"

"A Vulcan." I sighed, "Fantastic." The sarcasm in my voice could have cut through the air. A year with a Vulcan meant a year with no fun.

"What's his name?"

"Commander Spock."


	2. Ears Burning?

To everyone wondering, I'm so sorry for the confusion. I restarted this story after having made a few mistakes in the first few chapters x

* * *

T'yonga was a lifesaver. My car had, naturally, broken down, so she had given me a lift to campus in her, much more modern one.

"You're really going to have to get yourself a flying car eventually, you know," she chastised me, as we glided along the busy roads, the car floating a few feet off the ground "Wheels are _so_ outmoded, and they break down so much easier. Life is better without the fear of a puncture…"

I nodded along to her moaning, but wasn't really paying attention. I was still seething that I hadn't got onto the Biochemistry elective. I'd been looking forwards to it all summer.

"I was first in three out of four of my classes last year." I butted in, cutting her silent, "I can't believe that they didn't place me with McCormack. It's ridiculous. What am I going to learn in advanced mathematics that's going to help me practice medicine?"

She looked over at me, her curly red hair tied up in a bun, strands of coils escaping from it in all directions, "I know, honey, I know. I'd be pissed if I missed out on a year with McCormack too…"

"It's not about McCormack…" I continued, and she snorted with derision, "I just wanted to get onto that subject, that's all."

"Well you never know," she reassured, "You might enjoy math."

"I enjoy the subject, I doubt I'll enjoy the teaching…" I muttered.

I'd had Vulcan teachers before. All logic and no fun, which not only meant that they didn't allow experimentation, something that I had a craving for, but they didn't allow alternative methods. If I worked out an equation a different way than how my previous Vulcan professors taught me, they would mark me wrong. It was infuriating.

The car pulled to an abrupt stop as T'yonga parked outside Starfleet cadet headquarters, and stepped out. I followed suit, and she locked the car door behind her and pocketed the keys. The first day of the year was always busy, and cadets were milling around, chatting to each other, hanging out in big groups outside the science buildings and catching up after 2 months of summer holidays. I spotted the first years, in uniforms too big for them, looking at maps that were larger than themselves and trying to find their first lecture room. The second years were also easy to spot, they still looked young, but had slightly too much bravado in that 'I survived first year' kind of way.

"I'm sure Commander Spock isn't _that_ bad," continued T'yonga. She had been talking whilst we were walking, but I'd zoned her out.

"He's Vulcan, 'yonga. No fun, no rule-breaking, no improvisation."

"Vulcans can be hot," she said, in an attempt to brighten my mood.

"If you thought with your brain half as much as you thought with your vagina you'd be passing mechanics with flying colours." I shot back, and she merely gave me a large grin, her white teeth flashing against her green skin.

"I'm Orion, darling, that's what I do."

"Well I'm pretty sure a year getting taught by a Vulcan won't be much fun, T'yonga. I don't think Vulcans _do_ fun."

A tall man stormed past us at a fast pace, looking at us both with distaste as he strode. He was wearing the Starfleet blue shirt that symbolised a science worker, and his dark hair was cut in an unusual style, with a very short fringe. His eyebrows, the same dark colour as his hair, were pointed. It wasn't until he stormed past us towards the maths building that it registered with me.

His ears ended in a sharp point.

Ah shit.

"Was… was that a Vulcan?" I whispered, and T'yonga giggled.

"I think it was…" she replied, "He was cute, though…"

"Do you think he heard us talking?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Probably," she admitted.

"Oh God, it's only my first day, and I've already managed to anger one of the students. Let's hope I don't see him anywhere else." I muttered, as I watched him walk into the building.

"Well, he _is_ in the maths building, I can't guarantee that you won't bump into him, as much as you don't like it, you're taking maths this year honey."

"Bollocks." I continued, "I hope the guy isn't in my class…"

We walked in silence for a while, the guilt of offending the Vulcan student still playing on my mind. We both sat down on a bench, and were soon joined by friends. Su Ling, another medical student, and her boyfriend, Ian, who was studying applied physics. They had both gone to China over the summer to visit Su Ling's parents, and were full of energy talking about their trip.

"Who did you get for elective?" I asked Su Ling, and she grinned massively.

"Biochem. McCormack. You?"

I sighed. "Maths."

She grimaced in sympathy, whilst Ian laughed out loud.

"The Vulcan?" he asked, "That's going to be a dull year for you, Birchwood."

I nodded in agreement, whilst T'yonga was too busy fanning herself with her hand at the thought of Professor McCormack. "You're going to have to watch your back, Ian," she laughed, "If I was in McCormack's class I'd leave you right away!"

Su Ling giggled, and ruffled Ian's long blonde hair, whilst he pouted comically, "Don't you worry, Ian," she insisted, "I'm not going to leave you for an Irish Biochemist, no matter how gorgeous he may be."

"Well I may end the year dead from boredom with the classes I have lined up for me, so…" I grumbled, and Su Ling patted me on the back.

"I'm sure he won't be _that_ bad, Alex…" she reassured me, but her face said otherwise.

I glanced at my watch and sighed, it was ten to nine. Time for me to set off for my first class.

"Time to go guys," I said, gathering up my belongings and logging onto my PADD.

My first lecture was… maths.

Fantastic. Start the day with a bang.

"Enjoy McCormack, Su Ling," called T'yonga, wiggling her plucked eyebrows as Su Ling rolled her eyes and grinned, before walking off in the direction of the science building, where I desperately wanted to be going.

"Where are you off to?" asked T'yonga, catching up with me easily with her long legs.

"Maths," I replied, grumbling.

"Me too," she said, as she linked my arm and dragged me unwillingly towards the looming maths building, and we joined the throng of students trying to squeeze through the slightly-too-small double doors.

"What room are you in?" asked T'yonga, "I'm in 1507."

"2401." I replied, reading the number off my PADD.

"See you in a bit then. Enjoy." And with a conspiratorial wink, she set off in the opposite direction.

I headed towards the stairs. The first digit of the room number corresponded with the floor that the room was on, so I would need to be on floor 2 for my first maths lesson. Jogging up the stairs, I glanced at my watch. Five to nine. I hoped that I could find my way to room 401 before my nine O'clock start. If there was one things that Vulcans liked, it was punctuality.

The corridors were clearing, and I ran down them, glancing at the room numbers. "399, 400, 401."

I burst through the door, panting heavily, to see all the students already sat down, and looking at me like I had just grown an extra head. Considering that there was a girl in the front row who did _actually_ have an extra head, I found it quite offensive.

"Sorry, sorry…" I muttered as I squeezed my way past grumbling students until I made my way to a spare seat on the second row in the middle. I plonked myself down and got my books and calculator out of my bag, before glancing up at the teacher's desk.

A tall Vulcan was stood facing the blackboard at the front of the class, his back to us.

"Now that we're all here…" he said in a low American accent, "Shall we begin?"

He turned around, and my blood went cold. The face, the eyebrows, the ears, the judgemental expression…

He was the Vulcan from the courtyard. The Vulcan who had most likely overheard me insulting his race. The Vulcan who was now giving me the stink-eye like I was a piece of shit that ended up on the bottom of his shoe.

This was going to be an interesting lesson.

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Thanks for reading and please leave a review xx


	3. A Bad Start

Okey dokey first of all thanks again for bothering to come and read this chapter. you rock.

To the guest reviewer: I posted it before, but deleted and reposted it after having made a few mistakes in the first chapter (Also I consulted with my friend who used to live in Texas about the American colloquialisms) :) Thanks for reviewing xx

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"Good morning class 5B. My name is Commander Spock, and I shall be teaching your math elective this year."

Ok. Don't panic, Alex.

"Despite the lack of punctuality from some of you," he ran his eyes over the students in the class, before focusing them on me, the look of distaste in his eyes making me squirm, "I am sure that you will find my lessons engaging and useful."

I sighed inaudibly.

This was going to be a long year, considering that the professor already hated my guts. I was beginning to regret sitting too close to the front of the classroom. I glanced around at the students immediately surrounding me, and noticed that each student had a large, thick grey calculator sat on their desks. I glanced down at my, much smaller silver one, and felt my face flush.

I had the wrong calculator.

Mine, a small simple calculator, could work out the basic calculations that I needed for my medical studies, however the graphical calculators on the desks of my peers were much more useful in a mathematics based setting.

Ah shit.

"If nobody has any initial questions, I'll begin." started the Commander, as he turned his back to the class and began to write a complicated expression on the interactive whiteoard.

"I… um… Sir?" I asked, raising my hand, and he turned back, chalk in his hand.

"Yes?" he replied, the contempt audible in his voice, his left eyebrow raised in an expression of disbelief at being interrupted.

"I… I have the wrong calculator…"

There was a low giggle that ran through the room, but I ignored it as best I could. My face didn't need to get any redder than it already was.

"You have the _wrong calculator_?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Um yes… I… I just have an ordinary one," I explained, holding up the thin grey calculator to prove it, much to the chagrin of the Commander.

"I can see that, yes." He sighed in exasperation and walked behind his desk, rooting in one of the small drawers and pulling out one of the larger graphical calculators.

He walked over to my desk and loomed over me, silently placing the calculator firmly in front of me, before striding back to the front of the class, and standing in front of us all with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"I assure all of the rest of you have managed to follow the simple instructions that I gave you at the end of last year?" he continued.

The room was silent, which the Commander took as an affirmative, and he nodded his head in approval, before turning back around and continuing to write on the board.

At the end of _last year?!_ I had only found out that I was in the maths elective that morning! All of the students here must have already enrolled for maths by last June! Well, naturally, they would have their bloody graphical calculators, wouldn't they?

The Commander continued to write on the board, whilst I lifted up the hefty calculator and turned it over. A large sticker with 'Math dept.' covered the back of it. I turned it over again, and examined its front. There were more buttons than I knew what to do with. I didn't even know how to switch the bloody thing on, let alone calculate the log algorithm that Commander Spock had now finished on the board.

"Psst," came a voice next to me, and I spun my head around to see a human girl with curly blonde hair, green eyes and a small smile on her face.

She pointed to a small black button on the top left of her calculator and pressed it, and the screen came to life.

The 'on' button. Thank hell.

"Thank you!" I mouthed at her, switching on the calculator and letting out a large sigh of relief as the screen flashed on.

"No problem," she mouthed back, smiling, and turning back to her workbook.

Okay, so at least I had made one friend. That was a good start.

I looked forwards at the equation on the board and sighed. It had been five years since I had last had a maths lesson, so I hoped that my memory would serve me well. The calculator was looking better now that it was switched on, so I opened my notebook, got out my pen and started jotting.

* * *

"Nobody?" Asked Commander Spock from the front of the room, hands behind his back, foot tapping on the floor.

The girl next to me put her hand up hesitantly.

"Yes, Miss Johnson?" he asked impatiently.

"Umm… x=43 sir?" she answered unconfidently.

The commander audibly sighed, and imperceptibly shook his head.

"You are students in your final year studying at one of the most prestigious institutes in the United States. Don't tell me you can't evaluate a simple logarithm equation?"

 _Simple_ was a bit over an exaggeration. The equation was tremendously difficult, and required both integration _and_ differentiation in different parts. I wasn't surprised that people had found it so hard.

The class remained silent. The Commander had given us the whole lesson to work in silence to attempt to solve the equation, and so far, nobody had managed to correctly evaluate x. I had an answer down on my paper, scribbled hastily in black biro pen, but I wasn't confident with it. However, as every other student in the class had answered, all wrongly, I figured I might as well give it a go.

I raised my hand tentatively, and the Commander looked over at me.

"Yes Miss…?" he asked, leaving the end of the sentence open, asking me for my name.

"Birchwood. Alex Birchwood, sir."

"Yes, Miss Birchwood?" he continued, "Have you forgotten another item of equipment? A pen? Paper? Your basic math skills, perhaps?"

I raised my eyebrows in shock. I understood that Vulcans didn't like forgetfulness, but a response that harsh was unwarranted. There were a few chuckles from the back of the classroom, but most of the class remained silent. My eyes stung but I stuck my nails into my palms to prevent me from crying. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he'd got to me.

I glanced to the blonde girl on my left, and she gave me an encouraging smile, so I continued.

"No sir." I said in a strong voice, "I have an answer."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he nodded his head at me, an invitation to continue.

"Well by all means, Miss Birchwood, share it with the class."

I glanced back down at my paper, double checking my calculations.

"Um, I got x=12.43, sir."

He was silent.

"12.43?"

"Yes, sir. Well, I mean, that's what _I_ got, at least… I'm not sure if it's right"

He looked down at his working out, then back at me, a look of mild surprise on his pointed features.

"That is correct, Miss Birchwood," he said, almost reluctantly.

The class was silent. Ha fucking ha you judgemental piece of shit.

"Oh." I replied, ever so eloquently.

"Would you like to share with the class how you got to that answer?" he continued, inviting me to the front of the class.

Well, I've come this far…

I stood up, grabbing my paper, scraping my chair on the floor and walking to the large whiteboard, my heavy black boots loudly clunking on the wooden panelling as I made my way to the front. The Commander handed me the interactive pen, gave me an unreadable look, and sat down behind his desk, watching me intently. I started scribbling, copying down the working out on my notepad.

"When I got to this bit," I explained, continuing to write whilst I talked, "I made sure to keep both the x and the plus four in the brackets before squaring them _together_ , not separately."

I heard a few groans from the rear of the classroom, and assumed that some people had just realised their mistake.

"And with all that completed, x equals 12.43."

I placed the pen back on the Commander's desk and made my way back to my seat, getting a subtle thumbs up from the Klingon girl next to me. As I sat back down in my seat, the bell rang, signifying the end of the class. Commander Spock stood back up and surveyed the students, not looking at me.

"Your assignments will be emailed to you following this class. I expect them completed in full by your next lesson, which will be held on Wednesday after lunch. I hope that I can rely on you to all come fully prepared."

Though the last part of his sentence was obviously directed at me, he looked straight ahead at the back of the room whilst he said it.

"You are dismissed,"

The room erupted into conversation and movement as thirty students all stood up at once and begun packing their things into their bags. I stayed sat for a few moments, then pushed my chair back and roughly shoved my notepad and pens into my leather satchel. I grabbed the graphical calculator and walked up to the Commander's desk. He was already sat down behind it, preparing his notes for his next class. I placed the calculator down in front of him, and he looked up under hooded eyes, a completely neutral expression on his face.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this, sir." I said. I might as well attempt to patch things up between us.

"I trust that you will acquire one for your next lesson?" His tone was unreadable and emotionless.

"Yes, sir."

He nodded in approval, and turned his attention back to his papers.

"You are dismissed."

Okay. So making friends with the moody Vulcan wasn't going to work for me. I bowed my head respectfully, feeling anything but respectful, and wheeled around, stomping out of the classroom and resisting the childish urge to slam the door behind me.

"Pretentious arsehole…" I muttered as soon as I was sure that I was out of earshot.

"Spock, you mean?" came a female voice from behind me, and I spun around to see the blonde girl from my maths class come up behind me, a smirk on her face, "He was harsh on you. Like, really harsh."

I nodded in agreement, "Well, besides being late and forgetting my equipment, I'm pretty sure that he walked past my friend and I bitching about him this morning. I guess his irritation wasn't entirely unwarranted…"

The corner of her mouth twisted up in a smile, and she held out her hand to me.

"I'm Jackeline. You can call me Jackie though." She had a Southern drawl of an accent.

"Alex," I introduced myself, shaking her proffered hand, glad to have found someone in my maths class that actually liked me, "And I should thank you for helping me out with the calculator. Do you have any idea where I could get one of those?"

"No problem," she said, "And I'm pretty sure that the college stationary shop does them. They're pretty expensive though, about eighty dollars."

I raised my eyebrows at the extortionate price, and sighed, "Looks like I won't be eating this week, then."

She smiled in sympathy.

"So that accent," she continued, "You're a Brit, huh?"

I smiled at that. It was one of the first things that many people noticed about me.

"London girl born and raised," I answered, "My parents and big brother still live there, I go back every now and then, for Christmas and Easter and things, you know…"

Jackie nodded in understanding, "Yeah I get it. I haven't seen my parents in years. It's not often I get to go back home."

She left the sentence hanging, and I figured that she had left something unsaid. Not wanting to pry into something that was obviously personal, I decided to hold back on the questions for the time being.

I glanced at my watch.

"Ah shit, I'm late for dissection." I grumbled, and she smiled.

"Let's hope it's not another Vulcan. We know how well being late for them turns out…" she joked.

"No, thank God." I responded with a laugh, "It's with Dr. McCoy. Leonard McCoy? You heard of him?"

"Yeah, the hot lumberjack, right?"

I let out a burst of laughter. Yeah, that pretty much summed him up. Dr. McCoy had been my dissection teacher for the last five years of my education, so we had become decent friends, much to the jealousy of T'yonga, who had fancied him as long as I could remember.

"My friend is basically in love with him." I confessed, and Jackie smiled, showing a flash of teeth.

"Yeah I don't blame her. Well, enjoy yourself." She waved and walked off in the opposite direction, as I continued out of the Mathematics Building towards the Medical Building. Hopefully my day could only get better...


	4. Guts and Gossip

Hello again, thanks to everyone who reviewed xx

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Dissection was surprisingly uneventful.

We were presented immediately after entering the room with a complete female adult Gorn cadaver, alongside innumerable incomplete body parts from other species, and asked to examine them. The full dead body lying on a metal slab took many of the students by surprise, but after five years, I'd lost my ability to freak out over death.

I'd learnt that it was just an inescapable part of life.

Five minutes into my turn with the scalpel on the Gorn, when I was up to my wrists in brain-matter searching for a hypothalamus, Dr. McCoy appeared behind my shoulder.

"Found it yet, Treebeard?" he asked me, leaning over the table to get a closer look at what I was doing, his white scrubs covered in a mysterious green liquid that I didn't even want to ask about.

"Treebeard? Still? Seriously. I'm twenty-three, doctor…" I quipped back.

Since my first lesson with him five years ago, Dr. McCoy had jokingly referred to me as Treebeard, and it didn't look like he was going to stop any time soon.

'Treebeard' was a character in 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy, a set of books written by author J.R.R Tolkein, whom I had studied in high school for my 'Ancient Literature' unit of English. 'Treebeard' was a member of a mythical species, the 'Ents', who were walking, talking tree-people. They were responsible for the protection of their forest, and their kind.

In my first dissection lesson, I had made the mistake of mentioning that I used to be a member of Greenpeace. That, my love of Tolkein's work, and my surname 'Birchwood' had led Dr. Leonard McCoy to a invent nickname that had lasted five years.

"Seriously," he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile, "Now hurry up your chopping, cadet, we don't have all day. Do you have that hypothalamus or not?"

I stuck my tongue out of the corner of my mouth, dug slightly deeper into the Gorn brain, and finally reached my goal.

"Yes. Yes I do." I replied proudly, holding up a small, smooth section of the brain with my pair of metal tweezers, now covered in blood.

"Excellent." Dr. McCoy replied, patting me on the back as I placed the hypothalamus in a small metal container, ready for inspection under a microscope, and wiped my bloody hands on my white scrubs.

First day back and I was already covered in blood. Typical.

Dissection was one of my favourite aspects of studying medicine. Despite the fact that I often went home smelling like a morgue, I found it fascinating to see how the anatomies of different species compared to each other.

That, and the fact that on some days, you just need to chop a dead body up to feel better about yourself.

Today was an example of the latter.

I set down my pair of tweezers on the table, pushed a dark curl out of my face and walked off to join a group of my peers, who had congregated around the cold inanimate torso of what appeared to be a Klingon.

"Anything interesting in there?" I asked, having snuck up behind them, all engrossed in their work.

Su Ling, a healthy pair of Klingon lungs in her hand, spun around to look at me and beamed.

"Alex!" she exclaimed in surprise, "Biochem was _amazing_!"

I cursed inwardly, I'd almost forgotten. Of course biochem was amazing, biochem was always going to be amazing. I was trying my best to forget about the disastrous events of that morning's maths lesson, but they were all suddenly flooding back to me in vivid technicolour.

"We did intrinsic proteins in the first lesson! The _first lesson!_ " she gushed, before noting my downcast expression and toning down her enthusiasm.

"Ah shit, sorry…" she muttered, remembering how much I had wanted to get into the biochemistry elective, "How was math?"

I shook my head, not even wanting to discuss how terribly the lesson had gone.

I'd been publicly humiliated in front of the whole class for forgetting an object that I didn't even know that I was supposed to bring. Every other student would have known to have a graphical calculator to hand, after being told about it in their maths prep meeting. A meeting that I never even attended.

To make matters worse, I wasn't even given an ounce of congratulation when I solved the equation that nobody else could. I was just given a cold look and asked to explain it to the rest of the class.

I didn't know what I'd done to piss of the Vulcan so much, but I bloody well wish that I could take it back.

"That bad, huh?" she asked, taking my lack of a response as an answer.

I nodded, and she sighed.

"Sorry about that, Birchwood."

"Yeah, well I've got a year of Vulcan hatred to live through before I get my degree…" I grumbled, feeling decidedly very sorry for myself.

"Well you've only got him three days a week. That's something, huh?"

Surprisingly, her pathetic attempt to make me feel better actually worked. She was right. I had the Vulcan for only three hours every week. That wasn't much. I could probably get used his seething hatred… I hoped.

"Stop gossiping, ladies."

We both spun around, Su Ling still holding the lungs tightly in her hands to see Leonard staring down at both of us, with an expression of mock-disapproval.

"Dr. McCoy!" gasped Su Ling in surprise, "You scared the bejeezus out of me!"

Leonard's face broke out in a huge grin as he took in Su Ling's shocked expression, then looked over at me and looked worried.

"You alright there, Treebeard?" he asked me, taking in my glum expression.

"She hates Vulcans." Explained Su Ling, giving me a nudge in the ribs with her elbow and turning back to the table, placing the lungs down and picking up her scalpel.

I flushed in embarrassment and avoided Leonard's eye. The last thing that I needed was to be reported to administration for slagging off a teacher.

"Vulcans?" he asked, a smile in his voice, "I don't suppose that this would have anything to do with the self-conceited green-blooded hobgoblin currently teaching elective math, would it?"

I looked up in surprise. So I wasn't the only one to hate him, which was a good sign. If his co-workers also disliked him, then maybe it was him, not me, who was at fault. Intrigued by this idea, I continued the conversation.

"Not a fan, huh?" I asked him, my mouth turning up at the side.

"You could say that Commander Spock and I disagree on some issues." explained Leonard cryptically, "The guy's hard to get along with."

I smiled, finally feeling better. So it wasn't just me. Good.

"Don't let him get ya down, Alex," Leonard drawled in his thick American accent, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You're worth more than what some Vulcan thinks of you."

His words were surprisingly comforting, and I smiled at him in thanks.

"Yeah, I guess…" I muttered, "Anyway, I should probably get on with things…" I gestured towards a torso lying on the table, and he grinned.

"Wouldn't want to tear you apart from your cadavers, Birchwood." He joked, winking at me before sauntering off, hands in his pockets.

I rolled my eyes at him, but the left side of my lip quirked up in a small smile. Alright, so the guy had made me feel a bit better. Su Ling turned to me and smiled, proffering the lungs in her hands.

"Shall we?" She gestured to a scalpel on the metal table in front of her.

"It would be my pleasure," I replied, picking it up, placing the lungs down on the table and beginning to cut thin slices to place on a microscope.

"Just pretend its bleeding green…" Su Ling muttered to me, and I snorted in laughter.

Actually, pretending that the immobile lung on my operating table was actually a hunk of Vulcan flesh made me feel considerably better.

Maybe I could find a way to get through this year after all…

* * *

Thanks to everyone who followed/ favourited/ reviewed x Please drop a review if you liked it xx


	5. Drowning Sorrows in the Drunken Gorn

Hello there I have returned.

Firstly, a few thank yous.

Absynthe Verte: Thanks so much for your lovely review (And my apologies for the mistake, I've edited it now xx)

macywinstar: Thanks for reviewing... there is destined to be more hatred on the horizon ;)

19: I'll try my darndest to update as soon as possible x hope you like this chapter xx

Smile Black: Ugh I know how you feel... me and technology do NOT mix. Thank you all the same for your lovely review.

Okay here we go.

* * *

I was welcomed home at six O'clock to a view of T'yonga in a scarlet dress that was so tight it seemed like a second skin. I was only just inside the doorway when she grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me towards the bedroom.

"We're going out toniiiiight!" she sang as she sat me down on my bed and danced towards her closet.

"We?" I asked, "I have an early start tomorrow, 'yonga. I'm not planning on getting too wild…"

She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her newly stuck on false eyelashes at me in discontent.

"But I met a guyyyyyyyy…" she complained, "And I want you to meet him…"

I rolled my eyes.

"You meet a new guy every week, honey."

She laughed, a tinkling sound, and threw a bra at my head.

"Not _every_ week…" She defended herself, although she was grinning at me. She knew that I had a point.

As an Orion, T'yonga never found herself short of male suitors. She was absolutely gorgeous, bright green skin stretched perfectly over a curvily slim frame, waist-length red hair that hung in corkscrew curls around her oval shaped face. She was any guy's dream.

I, on the other hand, was decidedly average. At 5"6, I wasn't tall, I wasn't short. I was a few pounds over curvy, and my pale skin went bright red at the first sign of a blush. I wore contacts, but occasionally was forced to wear my thick-rimmed prescription glasses, which did nothing for my attractiveness. Sure, I had the occasional chat-up line from a guy in a pub, and T'yonga insisted to me that I was a 'Celtic beauty', but I found it difficult to believe.

"Anyway this guy's different." She continued.

"Different how?" I asked sceptically, I was used to the kind of guys that T'yonga brought home.

"Well, he's not only in it for the green factor, I'm sure of that."

My eyebrows raised in surprise. The 'Green Factor', a name that T'yonga and I had come up with in our second year, was by far the most common reason why guys went after her. In typical post-pubescent male fashion, they wanted to brag to their friends that they had 'slept with a green chick'. That had been the reason for most of T'yonga's breakups. Once the little shits had checked her off their list, they were gone. It was for this reason that I had a deep distrust of any man that T'yonga hooked up with.

"How do you know?" I asked, curious.

"He was going on about how we could still be friends if I didn't like him in that way, and all of that. He looked really nervous as well, none of the swagger that they usually put on." She explained, rooting through her wardrobe and throwing miscellaneous items of clothing at me, "Try some of these on."

"Why can't I wear my own clothes?" I asked, rooting through the pile of fabric that was now on my bed.

"Because your clothes make you look like a homeless cat lady and my clothes make you look like a perfect ten." She explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I held up a red dress that was so short it could easily be mistaken for a top, and raised an eyebrow.

"Oooh yeah, that one would look good on you!" She mused, coming over to me and pulling me up, making me hold the dress in front of myself and analysing its suitability.

"Ok. Pros: It shows off your great rack, it's figure-hugging, I have a pair of Jimmy Choos that would go _perfectly_ with it…" she rattled off.

"Cons, it makes me look like a strawberry blamange…" I finished for her.

She let out a snort of laughter at my disgruntled face.

"Okay, so you don't like the dress…" she mused, going back to her wardrobe and continuing to search.

"I haven't even promised to go yet, 'yonga." I reminded her, as she threw something that I could only describe as lingerie onto my lap.

"But you will when I tell you about this _guuuuyyyyy!"_ she sang, and I laughed and reclined back on the bed. I needed something to take my mind of the depressing events of that morning, and T'yonga's rose-tinted musings sounded like the perfect thing.

"Okay. Spill." I said, a smile already starting to spread across my face.

She grinned, happy to be able to recollect her story to somebody, she had obviously been waiting for me to come home.

"First thing's first, he is absolutely _GORGEOUS!"_ she started, emphasising her point with vivid hand gestures.

"'Yonga you think everyone with a y chromosome is gorgeous…" I muttered, but she ignored my scepticism and continued.

"I met him at lunch today, and he asked me if I wanted to join him and a few friends who were meeting at the ' _Drunken Gorn_ ' tonight. I said I'd bring you along."

Ah. The _'Drunken Gorn'_ was the absolute epitome of student clubs. At any time in the day, it was sure to be crawling with sweaty drunken Starfleet cadets drowning their sorrows in shot glasses and hoping to pull a partner for the night.

She saw my grimace and immediately tried to reassure me, "Noooo it'll be fun! And he's not just into me because I'm green… he really likes my personality…"

Alright, so the guy didn't sound like a total wanker. She was giving me the puppy-dog eyes that meant that if I didn't go, she'd mix her green foundation in with mine in revenge, so I'd look like I was about to projectile vomit if I wore it. I wasn't going to risk _that_ again.

"Okay. I'm interested. What's his name?"

T'yonga beamed at me, chucking another dress in my direction, one which seemed slightly more appropriate.

"Jim. Jim Kirk."

* * *

As I'd expected, the _Drunken Gorn_ was packed to the brim with students getting hammered after their first day back. T'yonga had managed to persuade me to wear a knee-length black dress with a low-cut front. I had always been curvy, a polite way of saying that I could lose a few pounds, and the dress accentuated every curve, going in and out in all the right places. Coupled with the ridiculously high pair of black diamanté Louboutin stilettos that T'yonga had forced me into, I actually felt pretty hot. I'd have to nick this outfit from her again.

We squeezed our way up to the bar, and requested two pints of beer from the barman, before taking a perch on two empty stools.

"Okay, so where's wonder-boy at?"

As soon as the words had left my mouth I heard a yell from the opposite side of the pub.

"T'yonga! Over here!"

It appeared that my question would soon be answered.

Through the huddles of students pushed a tall, well-built blonde cadet wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of loose fitting jeans. Okay. I could see what 'Yonga saw in him. He was gorgeous. His dark-blonde hair was purposefully ruffled in a just-got-out-of-bed look that had probably taken hours to perfect, and his sparkling blue eyes could give mine a run for their money. He smiled, flashing a row of dazzlingly straight teeth.

I gave her a quick elbow in the ribs to show my appreciation, and she looked over at me with an ' _I know, right?_ ' expression on her face.

"Ladies," he introduced himself assuredly as he reached us "James Tiberius Kirk, captain-in-training, at your service." He leaned down and took T'yonga's hand in his own before kissing it gently.

If you have never seen a green woman blush, you have missed out on a marvellous opportunity, because at that moment, T'yonga turned as red as a beetroot.

"And I don't believe I've had the pleasure…" he continued, looking at me with a confident smirk.

"Alex." I said simply, flashing him a smile, "Fifth year medic."

His eyebrows raised and he winced in mock-sympathy.

"Poor you. That's a busy schedule you've got there."

"Tell me about it…" I muttered, smiling back instinctively. I liked this guy, there was something about his enthusiasm that was infectious.

T'yonga obviously liked him, too. Her eyes barely left him the whole time he was talking to me. Well, good for her. It had been too long since she'd had someone nice to call her boyfriend.

"So where are all your friends at?" I asked him, looking around, "Did you just make them up?" I couldn't see any students who seemed to be with him.

"Yeah," continued T'yonga, "Alex was looking to pull tonight…"

I shot daggers at her, but James just laughed.

"Yeah, sorry about that…" he responded to my query, "They all bailed on me at the last minute. Something about not wanting to be hungover for tomorrow morning."

"That was originally my plan," I admitted, and T'yonga smirked, "But this green bastard dragged me out of my bed."

She roared with laughter and patted me on the shoulder, "We both know that you needed to get out of the house."

I reluctantly agreed with that.

"So Alex," started James, "You're in your fifth year?"

I nodded and took a sip of my beer, "For my sins."

"So what's your elective like?"

T'yonga's eyes widened to saucers as she remembered. She'd been so excited to get out tonight, she had completely forgotten to enquire over my maths class that morning.

"I can't believe I didn't ask you!" She yelled at me, "How was the Vulcan?"

James winced in sympathy, "Spock, huh? I've never met the guy in person, but he seems like a bit of a twat."

Blunt and to the point. I liked it.

"A _massive_ twat," I corrected him, "He basically tore my guts open today because I didn't have the right bloody _calculator_."

"Aww babe…" muttered T'yonga, rubbing my back affectionately.

James smirked at my tone, "Guess you two aren't going to be the best of friends, then…?"

"I would literally rather remove all of the nails from both my toes with a pair of rusty tweezers. He's a stuck-up wanker. I don't even want to _think_ about him." I deadpanned.

"It sounds to me as if you need another drink," James laughed at my outburst, hailing the barman over with a flick of his hand.

"Two vodka and cokes for the lovely ladies here," he asked, winking at T'yonga and causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl. I hadn't seen her act like this since the first time she saw Professor McCormack in the lunch hall and she'd practically dribbled her Plumeen soup all over herself. I liked it, she was obviously happy with this guy.

The barman, a tall stocky man with a shock of bright green hair, placed our drinks in front of us, grunted non-committaly and walked off, and I picked up my drink and took a massive swig, scrunching my nose up as the taste filled my nostrils.

I felt a hand pat me roughly on the back.

"Good on you!" yelled T'yonga over the noise of the chatter around us, "You needed this."

Well… if I couldn't erase the events of this morning, at least I could try my best to forget them...

I downed the rest of my vodka and coke, and raised my hand for the barman.

"One more please."

* * *

Thanks for reading and please drop a review in if you have the time (Constructive criticism is ALWAYS appreciated)


	6. Calculators and the Menstrual Cycle

Ok. So drinking last night was a bad idea. I opened my groggy eyes and glanced at the alarm clock, squinting at the harsh sunlight blasting in through the curtains. Eight thirty.

I let out a deep groan and slid out of bed onto the floor, taking two paracetamol for the pounding headache in my skull, and crawling towards the bathroom on all fours. I managed to pull myself up to the toilet, before emptying whatever remained in my stomach from last night, the sour taste of vomit stinging my throat.

"Fucking hell…" I grimaced, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and dragging myself upright to look in the mirror.

I looked like the epitome of literal shit. My hair was stuck to the side of my face, and my mascara ran down my cheek like ebony tears. The red lipstick from last night was smeared across my chin and… was that a hickey on my neck? I pulled my hair to the side and took a closer look. That was definitely a hickey. I sure as hell don't remember getting that.

I took a glance at the watch on my wrist and figured that I didn't have time for a shower. It was 30 minutes until my first lesson, and it would take me at least twenty minutes to walk to Starfleet at a fast pace.

I took a mouthful of mouthwash and gargled, revelling in the minty taste washing the stale aroma of vomit and cheap whiskey out of my mouth. I did a quick once-over on my teeth, then tied my hair up in a tight bun and attempted to wipe the remnants of last night's make-up off my face.

Shuffling from the bathroom into T'yonga and my shared room, I quickly pulled the black dress up over my head and pulled off my tights, leaving me standing in a skimpy set of black lacy underwear. That was entirely T'yonga's fault. I rummaged around in my drawer before pulling out a regulation blue Starfleet dress. I wasn't usually the type of person to wear the dresses, preferring to go by a shirt and black trousers, but I wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible. I shook the dress to get rid of the creases and held it up to look at it. It barely came down to my mid-thigh. Starfleet had a thing for short dresses.

"Looking good," came a low voice from my left, and I gasped and spun around to see a completely naked James Kirk lying on T'yonga's bed, her green arm wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his torso. Alright, so apparently I wasn't the only one who had pulled last night.

"Jesus Christ put it away…" I muttered, slipping the dress on over my head and searching in my wardrobe for my trusty black Doc Martens.

He chuckled and pulled the covers up over him, thankfully shielding my view of his crown jewels.

"Much appreciated," I thanked him, sitting on the corner of my bed and pulling my boots on, before grabbing my PADD and tucking it into my handy leather satchel.

He chuckled and turned over, kissing T'yonga on the head and wrapping his arm around her waist. She smiled in her sleep and snuggled in to his embrace, and I couldn't help the corner of my mouth twitching up. I may not approve of the time and place of their copulation, but whatever the circumstances, James Kirk seemed like a nice enough guy.

I wanted to lay down a few ground rules first, though.

"You'd better be gone when I get back, Kirk." I said sternly, "I have a lot of work to do, and I'd rather not complete my assignements with a naked Captain-in-training in my room."

He laughed, and I rolled my eyes, threw my satchel over my shoulder and strode out of the room. I just hoped I could make it in time.

* * *

I ran through the Starfleet gates as soon as the 9:00 bell rang. I checked my PADD. I was in a lecture in hall F203 with Professor K'haah, a moody Gorn woman with the temper of a wasp. Luckily for me, she was in the habit of turning up to her lectures at least twenty minutes late, before shouting at us all for wasting her time. I jogged towards F building, my satchel slapping against my thighs with the movement. A quick glance at my watch told me that I had at least a quarter of an hour until I needed to be in the lecture theatre, so I made a quick stop at the Starfleet bookstore.

"Hi," I greeted the friendly shop-assistant, a young-looking girl with a red bob, "I don't suppose you have any graphical calculators?"

I wasn't keen to be caught up in having the wrong calculator in the next maths lesson.

She flashed a smile at me, showing a white set of teeth, held in place by thick braces.

"Sure we have," she responded, standing up and walking towards a large set of shelves. She picked up a hefty looking object and brought it back to the counter, setting it down in front of me.

"That'll be seventy three dollars."

" _Seventy three?_ " I responded in shock. That was surely a bit steep.

She grimaced in apology.

"I don't make the prices, honey, I just sell them. Sorry."

I shook my head and pulled my ID out of my bag, scanning it on the holographic pad on the counter. All in-campus purchases were made using our personal identification cards, which charged the money directly to our bank accounts.

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault," I said good naturedly, smiling again, and taking the calculator from the counter-top, placing it carefully into my satchel.

"Thanks a lot,"

I nodded and turned to go, before crashing headfirst into a blue torso behind me.

"Sorry," I muttered, looking up at the face of my obstacle, and freezing.

It was Professor Spock, the expression on his face making it clear that he would rather be anywhere than stood directly before me. He raised his eyebrow in what could only be described as carefully contained disgust. His gaze quickly glanced down to the collar of my dress, a look of mild surprise on his face before bringing his eyes back up to reach mine. What? Did I have food on me? This dress was only new on today…

"Should you not be in lessons?" he asked in a low voice, interrupting my mental monologue.

"I wanted to get my calculator," I explained, rooting around in my satchel to find it.

He nodded noncommittally.

"Well, you should have had it at the beginning of the year, Cadet. All of the other students had managed to follow my simple instructions."

Of course.

I couldn't bump into him without getting an earful about what a shitty student I was. It was hard to take the moral highground when I was stood in a dress that came up to my arse and looking like the literal epitome of the walk of shame, but I decided to try to explain my situation.

"Well you see, sir," I said, "I originally applied for the Biochem elective. I was only told that I had been placed in Mathematics on the first day of this year. The first thing that I heard about this calculator was in the lesson yesterday."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but his expression was infuriatingly neutral.

"Very well, Cadet. Get on with your work, I'm sure you have a lot to be doing." And with that, he turned his back and walked off.

That was it. No apology for his unnecessarily harsh treatment, no understanding. Just a 'get back to your work'. I watched him walk away, struggling not to throw my new seventy dollar calculator at the back of his head.

Oh shit.

I raised my hand to my neck, getting out my phone to look in my reflection. Sure enough, the mysterious love-bite from last night was on full show. Brilliant. So now he thought that I was a slag as well as socially inept. I groaned loudly. That must have been what he was looking at.

"Don't pay him any heed, honey," said the red-headed girl behind the desk, a small smile on her face, "I've been working here for the best part of four years, and I don't think I've ever seen him crack a smile. It's not you, it's him."

Surprisingly, her words made me feel a bit better. It wasn't my fault that the guy was a moody sod, and I wasn't going to let it affect my happiness.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking a glance at my watch.

"Shit!" I swore, "I'm late."

She chuckled, "Better run then,"

I gave her a final wave, and legged it out of the small shop, running at full blast towards F building. By the time I got to the top of the stairs, my thighs were burning, but I managed to burst into the lecture theatre before Professor K'haah.

I took a seat in the front, and pulled out my PADD, a pen and a pad of paper, just in time to see Professor K'haah stalk into the room, a look of fury on her face.

Then again, that might just be her face.

"ALRIGHT STUDENTS!" she yelled to be heard by all 200 students in the room, "THE MENSTRUAL CYCLE!"

There was a slight groan from the back of the classroom, probably the males, but I smiled to myself. This was, weirdly enough, one of my favourite topics to learn about. The constant repetitions of each 28 day cycle was oddly reassuring to me.

"If I have to see one more vagina I'm going to jump out of the fourth floor window," came a heavily accented voice next to me.

I turned around to see a tall dark-skinned man sat next to me, looking about as miserable as it was possible to look. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, his teeth looking impossibly white against his skin.

"I'm Pierre," he said in a French accent, "Fifth year. I 'ave just transferred from Paris"

"Alex," I replied, "Hungover."

His face lit up at the sound of my accent.

"Another European!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around me in an unexpected hug, " _Bonjour_ my darling, _bonjour_!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he heartily joined in.

"Now is the time where I say that I've never been to France," I admitted, and he shook off my revelation with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

"And I 'ave never been to England, _amis_ , but I know a friend when I see one! Us Europeans must stick together!"

Alright. So I'd made a new friend in the space of three minutes. That was a new record.

I got out a pad of paper and began to take notes on the lecture.

"Tell me, _chérie_ ," Pierre muttered in my ear as Professor K'haah droned on about oestrogen and progesterone, "I don't suppose you know the name of that hunk of man-flesh making paper aeroplanes on the third row from the back?"

I chuckled to myself.

"Using me as a wingwoman?" I asked in mock-offence, "And there's me thinking that you were talking to me because you wanted to be my friend!"

He laughed again, nudging my shoulder with his much broader one, "Friends help friends out, Alan."

" _Alex_ ," I corrected, hiding a giggle and turning around in my seat to see who Pierre was talking about. I saw him instantly, his face crumpled in concentration, not on the complex array of hormones on the board, but on his creation of a masterful airplane out of a piece of A4 notepaper.

"I think he's called Jason," I whispered back, "He was in my dissection class last year. Masterful with a scalpel."

Pierre nodded, storing the name in his memory for later use.

"I will have to talk to him," he said, "There is something about these American boys. Drive me crazy."

I let out a full blown laugh at that, and K'haah stopped her explanation of follicle stimulating hormone to send me a dirty look, before carrying on unfazed.

"Obviously you've never seen one try to stuff twelve chicken nuggets in his mouth," I replied, hiding a chuckle, "They aren't exactly well schooled in the art of romance."

Pierre merely shook his head.

"Ah, my English rose," he drawled in his thick accent, "Has no boy come to steal your heart yet?"

I shook my head, and he sighed melodramatically. Of course the Parisian had a rose-tinted ideal of love.

"Ah but you are a _beau_ ," he continued, "Surely there must be some man?"

I raised my eyebrows and shook my head again, "No man, I'm afraid," I admitted, "I'm happily single."

He gave me an unconvinced look, but let the matter drop and jotted down the notes on the screen at the front of the classroom.

"Would you like to join my friends and I for lunch today?" he asked me, after about five minutes of silence.

"I'd love to," I whispered back, smiling to myself, before continuing my diagrams.

Fantastic. I'd made another friend. Three in the space of two days, Pierre, James Kirk and Jackie, the blonde girl from my maths class, this was some sort of record. I smiled to myself as I copied the complicated equations from the board. This was my final year at Starfleet, and God help me if I was going to let a pissy Vulcan ruin my mood.

I put Professor Spock from my mind, and got on with my work.


	7. Coffee, Hickeys and Unfortunate Meetings

Thank you all for the reviews, it makes my day to find out that somebody likes my stories!

This Chapter continues directly after the events of the last (Alex is headed to lunch with Pierre and his friends)

* * *

Lunch with Pierre and his friends was, surprisingly, absolutely fantastic. They were all very, very French, and it was refreshing to hear so many European accents in one place. The constant American voices all around me were making me miss home.

Pierre's friends consisted of two blonde twins, one male one female, Alec and Jasmine, who were both studying Interplanetary Law and Relations, a tall, skinny brunette girl with eyes the colour of ash called Belle, who was in her third year of Xenolinguistics and the cocky and assured Liam, an attractive jock, who was almost finished his course in Physiotherapy.

Pierre introduced me as 'Alex, the English doctor,', and everyone had welcomed me instantly. We all got to know each other well within the first half hour of lunch, and within no time at all, we were all laughing and sharing jokes.

"There is a _belle_ of a boy in my endochrinology class," Pierre exclaimed to the group as he sipped on a caramel mocha, "Is there not, Alex?"

I rolled my eyes sarcastically, taking another bite of my sandwich, he was talking about Jason, the paper-aeroplane making 'dreamboat' that he had spotted during our menstrual cycle lecture.

"He's certainly made an impression on _you_ ," I joked, nudging Pierre in the side and earning a laugh

from Jasmine and Alec.

"Pierre, my darling, you are insatiable," Jasmine cooed in her strong French accent, batting her eyelashes comically.

She was almost painfully beautiful, Jasmine. Her long blonde hair tumbled perfectly around her heart-shaped face in carefully arranged curls, and her emerald eyes, lined flawlessly with kohl, shone from her face when she spoke. What was it about the French and producing ridiculously attractive people?

Pierre merely laughed and finished his coffee in one long draught, before checking the time on his watch.

"I'm off, my lovelies," he said, packing up his bag and standing up, his chair scraping on the clean linoleum floors, "Dissection awaits."

"Enjoy…" I muttered, and he pulled a face. I knew what he meant. Dissection could be interesting and enjoyable, but never on a full stomach. I was lucky enough to not have any dissection classes straight after lunch this year, thank my lucky stars.

He mimed sticking two fingers down his throat, and grimaced at me.

"I 'ope to see you again, Alex," he smiled at me.

"You too, Pierre," I responded honestly.

"You know what, I should probably be heading off too…" muttered Belle, smiling at me and hoisting her bag over her shoulder, "I don't suppose my essay on the cultural differences between Vulcan and Earth is going to write itself…"

I laughed, "Good luck, see you in a bit!"

One by one the group got up and left to go to their lessons, until I was eventually left on my own on the large table. I had a free period, and was planning on using it to my advantage. Getting my satchel out from underneath the table, I removed my PADD and opened up the e-mail that Professor Spock had sent our maths class.

"Complete the following equations, giving your answers in exact form where possible"

I glanced over the equations and smiled to myself. They seemed easy enough, just a bit of factorising and integrating. I was glad that I had bought my graphical calculator that morning, something told me that it was going to be helpful.

I worked quickly, undistracted by the constant chatter of students in the busy cafeteria. Maybe maths wasn't going to be such a terrible subject after all.

I had finished most of the questions within an hour, to my surprise. Something told me that the rest of this year certainly wouldn't be as easy, the Professor probably gave us some simple questions to ease us into the year.

I sighed to myself and figured that I should probably pack my stuff up and head back home, I certainly hadn't got much sleep last night, so I'd have to catch up tonight. At least I wouldn't be greeted at my door by a naked Jim Kirk, I hoped. I'd been pretty clear to him this morning, asking him to be gone by the time that I got back. It wasn't that I had a problem with his relationship with T'yonga, quite the opposite, I was happy that she finally had what seemed to be a decent guy in her life, but sometimes, I just needed a bit of girl-time.

I rooted around in my bag for any loose change, and luckily stumbled upon a few quarters and dimes. Brilliant. Just enough for a coffee. I walked up to the counter, bringing my heavy bag in tow.

"One black coffee, please."

"Not a problem, that will be $2.00 please."

I smiled and handed the checkout woman my handful of warm change, "Sorry," I muttered, as she counted each coin out individually.

She laughed, "Don't worry about it, dear. I'm always in need of change."

An unexpected voice came from behind me, causing me to jump.

"Do you have my salad, Martha? I'm very sorry for my unpunctuality, I got caught up marking papers."

I recognised the low monotonous voice instantly and froze. Shit. Why did I keep bumping into this guy? Had I been a murderer in a past life or something?

"Of course, Commander Spock, I'll just finish serving this young lady and get it for you."

She turned away from us and busied herself at the coffee machine, leaving myself and the Professor stood in painful silence. After a few seconds of awkward quiet, I realised that refusing to look around and acknowledge his presence would just be seen as rude, so I bit the bullet and put on my best smile.

"Professor Spock." I said politely, nodding in respect, as the woman, Martha, turned back and handed me a hot cup of black coffee.

"Thank you,"

I gave her another smile, then turned to the Vulcan, "Goodbye Professor."

Time to get the ever-loving hell out of there. The last thing that I needed to do was make the Vulcan hate me more than he inevitably already did.

"Cadet," he called out after me, and I froze, and turned back around to face him, trying to mask my annoyance. I just wanted to get _home_ , I didn't need another lecture on my shortcomings.

"I trust that you have completed the work assigned to you for tomorrow's lecture?" he said in a neutral tone.

"Yes, Sir," I responded, with equal neutrality, "I just completed it before."

"And how did you find it?" he continued, swiping his ID badge on the counter to pay for his salad, a bland, tasteless looking concoction compromising solely of lettuce, tomatoes and avocado.

"Not too difficult," I replied, "I was alright with most of the questions."

He nodded, "Very well. I will see you tomorrow in class. I hope that you'll actually manage to make it on _time_ this time. If there is one thing that I dislike above all else, it is unpunctuality, and you were two minutes late for my lesson yesterday. I trust that it will not happen again?"

I was surprised by the outburst to say the least, for a Vulcan, it was almost… _emotive_.

"Of course, Sir. My apologies, Sir." I might as well be polite.

"Good." He said simply, "I do not need the tardiness of one foolish cadet to impact upon my teaching, or the learning of others."

"I understand completely Sir. I'll be on time tomorrow." I was pretty sure that I had flushed a burning red colour by this point, surely such public humiliation was unnecessary for being just _two minutes_ late for a lecture…

"Very well." He replied, turning away from me and thanking Martha, the cashier, "And you may want to check your assignment. I somehow doubt that you have answered everything correctly."

He just wasn't going to let up on me, was he?

"You are dismissed." He said cooly.

I nodded again, and turned on my heels, before speed-walking to the exit as fast as I could, the coffee cup burning the inside of my palm. I took a long swig, the black liquid scalding my throat as I swallowed. Well, he hated me that much was certain. Why was he so certain that I was unable to do the work that he had set for me? Surely, I was just as capable as any other student from my class? I grumbled to myself as I stepped out of the door into the pouring rain.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Sighing to myself and shrugging my bag to my other shoulder, I set off home.

* * *

By the time I got back to the flat, James Kirk was, thankfully, gone. I was greeted instead with a hug so violent it almost knocked me off my feet.

"He's the oooooooooonnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeee!" Sang T'yonta, her shrill voice ringing in my ears as I struggled to hold onto all of my belongings.

She finally let go and bounced over to the kitchen table, pouring me a mug of tea.

"Have a seat, my darling," she warbled at me, plonking me down onto the chair opposite her, and immediately reeling off into a long rant about the perfection of her new, official, boyfriend. I zoned out and drank my tea, nodding and occasionally adding a 'hmm' or a 'yeah' in the right place, to convince her that she had my undivided attention.

Eventually the conversation dragged to a stop, and she turned her attention back to me.

"You never explain why you hate that Vulcan so much, Alex."

Well, that was blunt and to the point.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"He seems to have completely dismissed me as a possible form of intelligent life." I stated simply, "He had a massive stress at me for being, like, _one_ minute late to his first lecture, and not having that goddamn calculator. And then when I apologise to him today, he just acts as if his treatment of me was completely justified. As if he's so much higher and mightier than me. He basically told me today in the cafeteria that he didn't think I was up for the course. 'I doubt that you've got it right' my arse, he just hates me because I'm not as organised as a fucking COMPUTER!"

I hadn't realised it, but my voice had slowly built up to a crescendo, and soon I was yelling at the top of my lungs. A look of complete shock was plastered onto T'yonga's face, she had never seen me so angry before.

"Babe…" she muttered, and I sighed to myself.

"I'm sorry, 'yonga," I apologised for my outburst, "He's just managed to really piss me off."

"Don't pay him any heed, hun," she reassured, patting me gingerly on the shoulder, as if she was worried that I was about to take a bite out of her hand, "I'm off out. Care to join me?"

I shook my head smiling. After last night, I wasn't sure that I could handle another night out for the next month.

"Also, T'y," I enquired, turning around to her as she rooted around for her shoes, "Where in the hell did I get this love-bite from?"

She roared in laughter, tossing her head back, her red curls bouncing as she guffawed, "Some first year engineering student, he was attached to your neck like a fucking limpet."

"Why didn't you save me?!" I asked indignantly, "I had to walk around with a hickie on my neck all day!"

Her eyes widened.

"Did the Vulcan see?" I could see that she was trying not to laugh.

"YES!" I shouted, "YES HE BLOODY WELL DID!"

She laughed again, coming over to me and ruffling my hair, "You poor darling, you."

"Thank you for the resounding sympathy," I deadpanned sarcastically, as she skipped away, slipping on a pair of stilettos and grabbing her handbag.

"Well, you looked like you were enjoying yourself…" she defended herself weakly, "You'll probably be asleep by the time I get back, but I'll tell Jim hi from you…"

"Tell him that next time he stays over, he better wear pants. I don't want to be greeted with _that_ view again in the morning."

She giggled shamelessly and blew a kiss in my direction, before slipping out of the door, leaving me sat on my own.

I sat in silence for a while, before reaching into my bag and pulling out my homework assignment, my scrawled handwriting spidering over the A4 pages of lined, white paper.

I guess it wouldn't hurt just to check it over, just once…

Thanks for reading, as always, and please, please, please (I cannot stress this enough) PLEASE review so I know if I'm on the right track with this.


	8. Lunchtime with a Vulcan

First of all, thank you to everyone for the lovely reviews, they really do make my day xx

Thanks especially to:

Alice Williams: Haha well your thoughts will be answered in this chapter xx Thanks for the review x

macywinstar: Dude your reviews always make me smile, thanks so much for sticking with this story right from the beginning, I really appreciate it x

Guest: MUAHAHAHA yes there may indeed be a reaction to the love-bite. ;)

sarahmichellegellerfan1: Thanks for your reviews and sticking with the story, hope you enjoy this latest chapter xx

This Chapter is in a slightly different style, so please tell me your impressions x

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Spock walked into the communal Staff Room holding his salad in one hand and a pile of unmarked papers in the other. He nudged the door open with his hip and made a direct line to the first empty table that he saw, perching on a wooden chair, and placing the stack of papers in front of him. Usually he ate in his own office, he much preferred to be alone than in the company of others, but every Tuesday, he made an effort to eat in the Communal Staff area. He did this to improve his relationships with his co-workers, an essential factor in a successful working environment.

Today though, he wanted nothing more than to not be there. He had a massive pile of marking to be doing, despite this only being the second day of the New Year. When taking on this job, Spock had had no worries about keeping up with the workload, but he was finding it increasingly more difficult to get everything done in time. It didn't help that his subject, advanced mathematics, had been added that year to be an elective for the fifth year medical students. The last thing that he needed was even more student's assignments to mark.

He let out a small sigh, took a bite of his salad and took out his red pen, picking up the first paper in the pile.

Might as well get it over with, he thought to himself as he began marking.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

What was it with first years and an inability to factorise equations? He had only just started marking the pile of assignments, and already felt exasperated.

"Welcome back, pointy,"

Spock knew the Southern drawl, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a millisecond, before dragging his eyes away from his marking to look at Dr. Leonard McCoy. The man's eyes were twinkling in mischief, a look that Spock had come to fear over the years. He was not ashamed to say that he and Dr McCoy had never been close. The good doctor was far too emotive for Spock's liking, he lacked a control over his emotions that most Vulcans had learned by their first birthday. The man was prone to sudden outbursts of anger or annoyance, totally inappropriate and unacceptable in the workplace.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Spock replied with neutrality, refusing to be made emotive by this man, "I trust you had a good summer?"

Leonard replied with a noncommittal grunt, taking a long swig from a bottle that Spock sincerely hoped contained water, but he wouldn't put it past the doctor to be drinking on the job.

"Got into a fight with my wife," he said, rubbing his lightly stubbled jaw with one hand, "I always seem to be doing that nowadays."

Spock didn't know how to answer such a personal remark, so remained silent, and continued to mark his papers, the red pen gliding smoothly along the pristine white paper. Marking, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Leonard snorted, and Spock glanced up at the unexpected noise. Dr. McCoy raised his hand in mock-surrender.

"Sorry pointy," he chuckled to himself, and Spock resisted the very un-Vulcan urge to punch him directly in the nose at the derogatory nickname, "But you look like pummelled shit, and it's only the second day back."

He gestured to the pile of papers sat in front of the Vulcan.

"Marking getting to you, huh?" he asked.

"It's nothing that I can't handle." replied Spock in a neutral tone, already disinterested with the conversation. Really, he was glad that he only had to interact with the staff once a week. Anything more, and he didn't think he could face it.

The doctor merely 'hmm'ed conspiratorially, and rooted around in his large over-the-shoulder bag, before pulling out a thick sandwich. Spock masterfully concealed an irritated sigh, it appeared that the doctor was planning on staying for a while.

"My secret is to ask a student to do it for me." He stage-whispered, before taking a horse-bite of his sandwich.

Spock looked up at this, his eyebrows knotted in shock. Surely he couldn't be serious?

"You... what?" the Vulcan asked incredulously.

Leonard let out a chuckle, "When it all gets too much for me, I tend to ask one of my more capable students for help. Give them some extra credit or something for it. It sure beats being up all night marking."

Spock raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I suppose it would." he mused, wondering if any of his current students struck him as 'capable' enough to assist him in his marking.

His mind wandered instantly to a girl in his Medicine Elective class, a British girl with thick dark hair, bright blue eyes and one of the fastest minds he knew. He always set his classes a particularly difficult task at the beginning of each year, to prevent them from becoming over-confident. It usually worked terrifically, as the students knew instantly that they were out of their depth, and the shock of the knowledge forced them to pay close attention to him for the rest of the year. The British girl, on the other hand, had managed to solve his equation with what appeared to be little difficulty, even after having turned up to his class late and unprepared.

It infuriated him for a reason that he didn't even understand.

Of course, there was no way that he could rely on her to help, not with her dreadful record for punctuality.

"Do you know the fifth year British medic?" he enquired to Dr. McCoy.

He was purely interested on a professional manner, obviously.

At the question, Leonard barked out a bout of laughter, causing Spock to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"You talking about Treebeard?" he asked, and a look of confusion momentarily crossed Spock's face.

"Who?"

"Birchwood." Explained the doctor, "Sorry, Treebeard's my nickname for her. Did you know she was a member of Greenpeace?"

Spock was more interested about the fact that Leonard knew her so well that he had established a nickname for her. He wasn't quite sure how this made him feel.

"Yes. Alex, was it?" Spock asked, trying to sound neutral. His personal dislike of the student didn't need to be broadcasted.

"She's got a lot of spunk, that lass..." Dr. McCoy continued, "Known her for five years. You should have seen her on her first day, terrified as anything. Asked a fellow student for a rubber in her first dissection lesson," he laughed heartily, "She meant an eraser, of course, they call them 'rubbers' in England. Seemed to make a few friends after that. Has an Orion buddy that she rooms with."

"She's as bright as a flame, but as fiery as one, too. You don't want to get her pissed off with you."

"I... I beg your pardon?!"

"She has a temper on her." Leonard said simply, "I've seen that girl get annoyed, and it's like nothing you've ever seen. Like a bomb has gone off."

"She doesn't seem to like you very much." Dr. McCoy muttered, almost to himself, but Spock's advanced Vulcan hearing quickly picked up on it.

"Oh I'm well aware of that, Doctor," replied Spock in all honesty, "Cadet Birchwood arrived late to my first lesson, with insufficient equipment. I told her in no uncertain terms that I would not accept such mistakes. She is a student in a well-respected faculty, and she should behave as such."

"Bit harsh, Pointy. I'd wager she's one of your best students. You don't want her to hate coming to your lessons before you've even had a chance to teach her anything."

Spock ignored the jibe.

"I am not known for my niceties, Dr. McCoy, I am known for my teachings."

Dr. McCoy raised his eyebrows in surprise, and stood up, his chair scraping roughly on the wooden floor.

"No wonder none of your students like you..." he muttered under his breath, unaware that Spock could clearly hear everything that he said. The good doctor made his way across the staffroom to begin a conversation with Professor Jones, a sprightly young woman who taught advanced mechanics, leaving Spock on his own to mark his papers.

Spock was glad. He preferred the company of himself to the company of others, and anyway, it gave him more time to mark.

He couldn't help but wonder if he had been too harsh on the young British girl, though. Dr. McCoy was right, in one respect, it would do no good for him to lose of one of his best students before the year even began.

He put the thought out of his head immediately. His job was to teach, his personal relationship with the students was of no concern to him. She could damn well hate him as much as she liked.

He finished marking one paper, and moved swiftly on to the next one, trying his best to put that infernal medic out of his mind, without much luck. He remembered how he had bumped into her that morning in the Stationary Shop, and how she had explained that she had only recently been assigned the Math elective, making her lack of the correct calculator in the first lesson seem entirely rational.

Spock felt his face heat up as he also drew to memory the distinctive purple mark on the Cadet's neck. A 'love bite', as the students called it. To Vulcans, it was something far more potent, far more intense. It was a brand, a marking, a possessive tattoo from one lover to another. It was a sign that said 'I'm taken.'

Something about seeing it on Cadet Birchwood had made him very uncomfortable, even irritable.

When he had seen her again in the cafeteria, he had been sharper with her than he usually would have been with a student, and he saw clearly that he had effected her, despite her obvious attempts to hide it. He had blamed his high levels of stress of the copious amounts of marking that he had to do, but knew that he was lying to himself.

There was something about that girl that made him emotive, and it terrified him.

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As always, reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, you guys keep me writing xx


	9. An Unexpected Apology

Thanks for tuning in lads :) Special thanks to all the reviewers xx

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A lightbulb near the front of the classroom was flickering on and off rhythmically, the metallic 'ding' of the out-of-date lighting echoing in the room. A shaft of too-bright sunlight shone through the open windows, right into my eyes, making me squint in discomfort. I took a glance at my wristwatch, 3:30 pm, another half hour to go.

A single bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck, and I tugged at my too-tight collar, trying to get some much needed cool air. It was the hottest day of the summer so far, and the small room was swimming with the yawns and sweaty sighs of all twenty-three fifth-year medical students. I glanced down at the paper on my desk, my usually messy writing looking even more illegible now, as the heat of the day had drawn all the energy out of me, making the complex equation on my notepad look more like a spider had crawled in ink and died across my page. We were an hour into our maths lesson, and the Professor had given the class a set of equations to complete, but the heat and humidity had left everybody feeling exhausted.

I sighed and pulled a strand of hair loose from the thick dark plait that fell over my left shoulder, looking over to my left to see Jackie doodling love hearts onto the top left corner of her graph paper. She saw me watching, and gave me a beaming grin, before going back to her masterpiece.

"Alright,"

Everyone's heads snapped up immediately, looking to the front of the maths classroom, where Professor Spock was stood, holding a pile of papers in front of him, with a look on his face that could melt rock. If the guy ever smiled, I think his face would crack under the pressure.

"Your assignments were, to say the least, disappointing."

He gave the classroom a look over, and I noticed that he didn't meet my eye, as he had last time. I was glad. The last thing that I needed was to be singled out by him _again_. My heart sunk at his words, I had tried really hard to get a good mark in my first assignment, but obviously, hadn't managed to.

He slammed the papers roughly down on his desk, the loud noise breaking the rest of the students out of their dazed state, and causing me to jump. The room remained silent as the Professor looked down at us with barely concealed disgust.

"This was your _first_ assignment. Your _first_. And the class average is 68%."

A hushed intake of breath came from around the room. Sixty eight percent was barely a pass, a 'D' Grade. If I was to get anywhere near that in my final exams, there was no way in hell that I would qualify as a doctor. I could tell by the terrified silence reverberating around the room that everybody was thinking the same thing.

"Only _three_ students got an 'A' Grade. Three."

I took a quick glance again at my watch. Twenty minutes. Hopefully, the lecture that was to come wouldn't be a long one. I remembered what the Professor had said to me the last time that I met him, _"I somehow doubt that you have answered everything correctly."_ I had been desperate to prove him wrong, but evidently, judging by the shocking results, I had failed.

"The following students each received a 'U' grade, and will be joining me tomorrow for a retest."

Surely he wasn't going to read out the names publicly and humiliate the students? I snuck a quick glance to my side, and noticed that Jackie had the same terrified expression on her face as I knew that I had. Apparently he was.

"Cadet Smith. Cadet Roberts. Cadet Sh'kaih. Cadet Ying. Cadet Harrison. Cadet Johnson."

A groan from my left at the final name. Poor Jackie, she'd be annoyed with herself at the mark she received. Also, a retest was never a fun thing to do, but one with a Vulcan, I assumed would be even worse.

"Get on with your work as I hand the rest of these out, please."

The class immediately looked back down at their desks, unwilling to make even the slightest bit of eye contact with the riled Professor. He picked the papers back up off the desk and began to walk slowly around the classroom, placing a marked paper on the desk of each student. I continued with my work, my pen gliding smoothly along the paper. I found the equations quite easy. That was one of he things that I loved about maths, once you had the basic skills, you could solve almost anything. 'Almost' being the prerogative word.

I felt a presence beside me, and looked up from my page to see the Professor looming over me, causing my heart to skip a beat, and me to take a sharp intake of breath in surprise. He could sneak up pretty quietly when he wanted to.

He looked down at me quizzically, confused as to my reaction.

"Sorry sir, you surprised me there…"

He raised a single eyebrow in an expression that very clearly said, 'I'm not going to waste my time talking to you'. He simply placed my assignment on the desk in front of me, and carried on walking around the classroom. I sighed to myself, why was I always making a fool out of myself around that Vulcan? He already hated me enough already, the last thing I needed to do was to make him think that I was even more unintelligent than he obviously already did. I glanced down at my assignment, dreading the mark that I would see circled in red pen at the top of it.

 _71/75 A_

I… got an A?

I glanced upwards, and my blue eyes sought out the Professor, my face obviously showing my shock. He looked back at me, his dark eyes boring into my light ones, and I swore that I could see the corner of his lip quirk up in what couldn't accurately be described as a smile, but was definitely not his usual stony mask. A strange feeling crept up into my chest, a mixture of pride and something else that I could not quite put my finger on. He had not believed that I would be able to complete the assignment successfully, and it appeared that I had shown him wrong.

"What did you get?" A stage-whisper came from my right, and I turned to see Jackie, her blonde curly hair scraped off her face in a tight ponytail, holding up her test, a distinct ' _32/75 U_ ' circled in the top left hand corner.

"I got an 'A'!" I mouthed, my face displaying the shock that I felt.

She grinned and gave me a thumbs up, mouthing "Smart cookie."

I smiled back at her, and turned my attention back to the equations in fron of me, feeling a lot happier than I did ten minutes ago.

When the lesson finally ended, everyone was happy to leave. The last lesson on a Friday always dragged on, but this one had been longer than most, though whether due to the sweltering heat or the dismal results from the assignment, I didn't know. The Professor's curt, "You are dismissed," was followed by the immediate noise of the scraping of twenty three chairs across the polished linoleum floor as twenty three students stood up, packed their equipment into their bags and fled out of the door.

"Birchwood."

I looked upwards from my leather satchel to see Professor Spock sitting at his desk, his hand folded neatly in front of himself, his eyes trained directly on me.

"Sir?" I asked inquisitively, unsure of what I had done _this_ time to irritate him.

"Could you stay behind for five minutes? I need to discuss something with you."

Ah crap.

I glanced around in panic and saw that the majority of the students had left the room. Jackie was still there, packing her files into her pink rucksack, she gave me a glance and mouthed, 'I'll wait for you outside', before, slinging the rucksack over her shoulder and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving me alone with the Professor.

I tucked a loose dark curl behind my ear, and hoisted my leather satchel over my shoulder, walking forwards to the front of the classroom, where Professor Spock was still sat behind his desk, his eyes trained directly onto me. That was the problem with Vulcans, they either gave you no attention, or their full, undivided attention. At the moment, I didn't know which was worse.

"Please, take a seat, Cadet." He said, gesturing to a plastic blue chair at the front of the classroom, directly opposite him. I lugged my heavy bag forwards and plonked down on the chair, placing my hands nervously in my lap.

"Am I in trouble, Sir?" I asked. Better to get it over with quickly, though, in all honesty, I had no idea what I had done _this_ time.

"No Cadet." Was his simple answer. He sighed audibly and adjusted his position in his seat, if his face wasn't so stoic, I would swear that he looked _uncomfortable._

"I'm afraid, Birchwood, that the apology is mine to make."

"I'm sorry?" Was I hallucinating?

"I'm afraid that I have been treating you unfairly."

I could feel my heart beating in my eardrums, still not quite sure if I was hearing correctly. His face was blank, with no expression, so I had to assume that he wasn't joking. Not that I thought that he would joke often.

"I formed a negative opinion of you after our first meeting, and I was under the impression that you would be unable to keep up with the curriculum. Your result from your latest assignment, as well as your ability to solve my equation in your first lesson have proven me wrong. So I'm sorry."

My mouth was dry, and my hands were sweating, I was sure that I had gone into shock. Well, this was certainly a surprise. I bit my tongue in order to stop myself from saying a cheeky comment back at him, and simply leaned back slightly in my chair.

"Well, thank you, sir." I replied smoothly, my face as blank as his, not betraying the smug level of pride that I felt on the inside.

 _Ha fucking ha. About time you piece of shit._

"I trust that you will be punctual for all of my lessons from now on?" He asked me, the outer third of his the left side of his upper lip twitching in a way that betrayed a slight hint of amusement. Was he joking with me? I didn't think that Vulcans _did_ jokes…

"No, sir." I replied politely, and he nodded in appreciation.

"Well than you're dismissed, Cadet. Have a good weekend."

That was it? 'Have a good weekend'? I was surprised, to say the least, and wondered what had happened to make the Professor change his mind.

"I really appreciate this, Sir. Thank you very much." I stood up, scraping my chair on the floor, and hoisting my heavy bag over my shoulder, "I look forwards to your lesson on Monday. Have a good weekend."

He nodded once, and broke eye contact with me, looking down at his desk, which was covered in stacks of papers and notepads, each neatly placed into piles. I walked away towards the door, looking behind me to see that he had taken out a pen, and was marking the first of the large pile of unmarked assignments. By the looks of it, he would be marking for a while. I slipped quietly out of the door, closing it gently behind me, to come face to face with Jackie, whose hair had been let out of its ponytail to fall in soft waves around her face.

"So what was that about?" She asked me in her soft Southern drawl, and I let outv a deep sigh that I hadn't realised that I'd been holding in.

"He _apologised_ to me…" I muttered, almost to myself. I still didn't quite believe it myself.

"He _WHAT_?!" She replied in shock, stopping in her tracks a look of intense bewilderment on her face. Evidently, she was as surprised as I was.

"Yeah," I continued, holding onto the banister on my way down the stairs, trying to steady myself, "He said that he was sorry for the way that he treated me at the beginning of this week, and I'd proved him wrong with that test."

She raised her eyebrows so high that they disappeared behind her thick bangs.

"Holy shit. I had him last year for one of my classes, and I have never _ever_ seen him admit that he's wrong…"

She was silent for a while, and we walked out of the Maths Building together in quiet.

"Maybe you've broken him."

I snorted in laughter at this.

"Maybe I have."

I found myself unconsciously glancing upwards, my eyes fixing on the window of Professor Spock's classroom, on the second floor of the Maths Building, knowing that he would be in there, alone, surrounded by unmarked papers. I wondered again what had pushed him to apologise to me for his actions. He was right, he had been unfair to me at the beginning, but it was very un-Vulcanlike to actually admit that, Vulcans were creatures of logic, and hated to get anything wrong, so what had driven him to admit it to me?

"Maybe I have."

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	10. A Different Perspective

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SPOCK POV

Spock rubbed his temples with his left hand, and checked the clock by the side of his table. 11:50pm. Far too late for any respectable Vulcan to be awake, even later for one to be still working. There was still a pile of unmarked papers on his kitchen table, but he had managed to break the back of the load. The conversation that he had last had with Doctor Leonard McCoy swam into his head. Surely it wasn't _too_ immoral to ask one of the more capable students to assist him with his marking, as long as it didn't interfere with her schoolwork.

He froze.

 _Her_ schoolwork?

Had his brain really betrayed him, by already picking out a student that was suitable for the job? He couldn't deny to himself that Cadet Birchwood was the ideal student to ask for help from. She was intelligent, hardworking, lightning fast, and after today's conversation, he was positive that she would be able to manage her time sufficiently. So why was he so reluctant to ask for her help?

His mind ran back to their interaction earlier that day. He had been determined to confront her, after what he had come to understand was unacceptable behaviour. As a student, he was obliged to treat her no differently from any other member of the student body, and her test scores proved to him that he was incorrect in assuming that she wasn't up for the course. In theory, she was ideal to ask for assistance.

Spock stood up from his table, walking towards his kitchen and placing a kettle on the hob, pulling out a peppermint tea from a cupboard above his head. He needed to get that girl out of his mind.

He had only met the British girl a week ago, and already, she was invading his thoughts. It infuriated him to no end. Of course, he had overheard her and her Orion friend on that first day, when he walked past them on the way to class and they were in a deep conversation about the shortcomings of his species. His mind wandered back to the event, her easily recognisable accent echoing around the campus.

 _'_ _I don't think Vulcans_ do _fun_. _'_

Her laughter rung around Spock's ears as he stormed past her, furious with her obvious dismissal of him. It was only when he began to examine his actions that he realised that he had done the exact same thing to her, dismissed her abilities without assessing them first.

He sighed to himself and rubbed his temples with his forefingers, kicking his shoes off and placing them beside the table. He padded into his bedroom in his socks, pulling his regulation blue Starfleet shirt off over his head, and throwing it into the laundry basket by the door. He sat down the end of his bed and bent down, pulling his black socks off and tossing them in the same direction as his shirt. He blinked twice, hard, trying to erase the smug face that seemed to have imprinted itself onto his retinas. He had had students who had affected him emotionally in the past, of course, students that he had liked and disliked, but none of them stayed in his mind past the classroom.

This was different.

She plagued him.

The high shrill whistle of the boiled kettle brought him out of his thoughts, and he pushed himself up off the bed and walked back out to the kitchen in just his black trousers, pulling the kettle off the hob and making himself a cup of peppermint tea. He carried it with him to his couch and sat down, decidedly ungracefully, taking a calm and measured sip of his tea, scalding as the hot liquid burned down his throat, thinking on the day's events.

* * *

ALEX POV

"Shots! Shots! Shots!" Yelled T'yonga as I poured my fifth glass of tequila down my throat, gagging at the intense taste.

"Gaahh…" I muttered, and a firm hand patted my back roughly, but I had no idea who it was. The alcohol went straight to my brain, blurring my already hazy vision.

"Who said the English don't know how to have a good time?" yelled Jim, raising his half-full beer glass in the air in emphasis, and slinging his arm around T'yonga's shoulder, causing her to beam in joy.

"Anybody who has ever met one of us." I replied scathingly, and T'yonga screeched in laughter, her red curls bobbing up and down.

"You are the funnest grumpy person I have ever met." She replied, wriggling out of Jim's grasp and tottering towards me on her six inch black diamanté heels. She looked incredible, her shapely legs showed off in a pair of figure-hugging black leather leggings and a pale pink silk shirt draped casually over her torso. She gave me a grin and ruffled up my hair affectionately, giving me a tight hug, towering over me in my blue ballet flats.

T'yonga had, once again, forced me into one of her dresses. This one, a light blue knee-length dress with white floral patterns, actually fit me well, hugging my curvy figure. I had worn my hair down, and it fell in loose curls over my shoulders, contrasting with the red lipstick that I applied. As soon as I had got home that afternoon, and told T'yonga about the surprising apology from a certain Vulcan, she had insisted that we go out to 'Nix', the newest nightclub in the city, to celebrate. She invited Jim, and I decided to invite Jackie, the Southern girl from my Maths class. She'd been only too happy to come along.

"Alex. Alex." A voice from my left.

I turned, and smiled at the sight of Jackie, leaning on the bar with one elbow, her black dress hanging dangerously low around her chest, a glass of Bacardi and Coke in her hand.

"Come over here." She slurred, grabbing my elbow and leading me away from the bar. I may be tipsy, but she was full blown drunk. She led me to a small table in the corner of the room, managing to avoid the dancers who were gyrating to the music being blared from all sides. The chairs were wooden and hard, but we were snug in a corner away from most of the noise, so I appreciated it. I took a glance over to the bar and saw T'yonga downing what must have been her eighth shot, with Jim looking on, impressed.

I turned my attention back to Jackie, who was staring intently at her glass of coke, watching the brown bubbles slowly rise to the top. She noticed me looking, and gave me a conspiratorial grin.

"Soooo…" she slurred, pointing a shaky finger at my face for emphasis, "What's going on with that Vulcan?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course she would want to talk about _him_.

"I dunno, Jackie," I said honestly, "It wasn't particularly Vulcan-like for him to apologise. But at the same time, I guess he was right, I mean, he _was_ being unnecessarily unfair to me."

"Yeah I guess," she replied, pouting at the boringness of my comment, she was probably hoping for some juicy gossip, "Still, t's weird. Even at the beginning of the week, he acted almost… _emotive_ towards you."

That was true. The anger that he had shown me when I had arrived late to his class was emotional, something that Vulcans usually abhorred.

"Ya know he's half human?" Jackie murmured to me, and my ears pricked up instantly.

"He's _what_?" I replied incredulously. Jackie's attention had strayed over to the bar, where a gentleman with blue skin and a shock of pink hair was flexing his impressive biceps to an adoring crowd of onlookers. I grabbed her elbow and pulled her attention back to me.

"He's what, Jackie?"

She looked at me confused for a second, then her eyes widened in understanding.

"Half human." She replied flippantly, as if it wasn't very exciting news, "His mom's human. Dad's Vulcan."

My eyebrows rose so high that I was surprised they didn't disappear under my hairline. Well that explained his outbursts.

"His mom comes back to Earth occasionally to visit. She's nice." Continued Jackie, unaware of my state of shock, "She's called Amy or Amanda or something like that, I can't remember. That probably explains his actions towards you, though. He has a bit of red blood mixed in with all the green."

I snorted at that, somehow, I couldn't see the professor as anything other than a pure-bred Vulcan.

"I mean, he was a bit of a dickhead when you first met him…" Jackie continued, scratching a circle into the matted wooden table with her long fingernail.

I chuckled to myself, recalling the horrific week that I had just had.

"Yeah, well hopefully I'll enjoy the rest of the year more than the first week." I muttered to myself, "You never know, I might even start to _like_ his lessons."

I reached over the table and took a long gulp of Jackie's drink, which she laughed at.

"Don't tell me you're starting to get _attached_ , Alex."

A flush of heat rushed to my pale cheeks at her question, and she noticed immediately.

"Oooh, you're blushing! You're blushing!"

"I'm not shitting blushing, it's just warm in here." I deadpanned back, but Jackie was having none of it. She threw back he head in laughter.

"You know, Vulcans only fall in love once in their lives, Alex. You'd better hurry up before somebody snatches him up."

My cheeks were burning at this point, and I stuck my middle finger up at her, to which she laughed even more. I didn't _hate_ the guy, but I was certain that that didn't equate to unrequited love. I took another large mouthful of Jackie's Bacardi and Coke, wrinkling my nose at the taste.

"I don't have a crush on a Vulcan, Jackie…"

"Half-Vulcan," she corrected me, grinning at my obvious annoyance, and patting me assuredly on the shoulder, "He's only half-Vulcan."

I rolled my eyes and couldn't help but grin. Sober Jackie was funny, but drunk Jackie was hilarious.

Our heart to heart was rudely interrupted by T'yonga, dragging Jim along with her towards our table, carrying four glasses of bright green liquid, so luminous it almost glowed in the dull light of the club.

"Drink up, girls!" Yelled Jim, struggling to be heard over the thumping music.

"Do I even want to know what's in those?" I asked, a smirk on my face.

Jim shook his head and laughed, his blonde hair flying around his face with the motion, "Probably not, England. Probably not. They're called 'blackouts' apparently. I'm pretty sure there's some morphine in them."

"Sounds perfect." I replied, grinning from ear to ear, and picking up the small shot glass. Jackie took hers in hand as well, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!" Yelled T'yonga, before downing the shot in one. I followed suit, tipping the small glass back, swallowing the contents. The drink tasted like petrol, burning my throat on the way down and lighting my insides like fire.

"Whoo!" Jackie yelled as she slammed her empty glass down on the table, earning a pat on the back from T'yonga, "That... was quite something…"

"Scooch up," Jim asked, nudging my shoulder, and I shimmied my chair sideways, giving him room to pull up a chair, and tug T'yonga into his lap, much to her delight. She took a large gulp of the glass of Bacardi and Coke that Jackie had brought to the table.

"Sooooo…" He dragged out the word, drunkenly slurring, "What were you two having a little chat about earlier?"

My face flushed beetroot red and I glanced at Jackie.

"Don't you dare."

She flippantly waved my plea away with her hand, "Alex has a crush on the Vulcan."

A wet spray caught me off guard as T'yonga spat out a mouthful of coke in surprise, covering me with the foamy liquid. Jim burst into raucous laughter, throwing his head back and flashing a row of film-star straight teeth.

"Holy shit, Alex." T'yonga laughed, "This is out of the blue!"

"I don't have a crush on the poncey Vulcan," I insisted, but none of them were paying me any heed.

"Of course you don't. That would be illogical." Retorted Jim, earning a smirk from T'yonga and a belly-laugh from Jackie. I glared at all of them, giving them the death-stare, but my annoyance at the situation just made them laugh more.

I stood up, scraping my chair on the floor, and Jim wiped a tear from his eye, chuckling as he looked up at me.

"Going so soon, Birchwood? It' only…" he checked his watch, "Twelve. Don't tell me we've scared you off."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"I'm going to get another bloody 'blackout', hopefully it will erase all memories of this conversation. Who's for another one?"

A rousing chorus of, "Me!" came from the table, and I shook my head, laughing, before making my way over to the bar.

The barman was a burly gentleman, with skin the colour and texture of tree-bark.

"What'll it be?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"Four 'blackouts', please, I requested, slamming a twenty dollar note on the bar. He got to work preparing the drinks, and I glanced back at the table my friends were sitting on. They were all laughing, grinning like their mouths were going to come off. I couldn't help but grin too. I was lucky to have such a great bunch of friends, even if they did tease me mercilessly.

I mean, they weren't _right_ about the Professor. Sure, I had respect for him, he was an expert in his field, but I wouldn't go as far as to say that I had a crush on him. That would be… inappropriate.

Yes, so the last time that we had spoken, I had had butterflies running all the way from my head to my toes, but that was just because I was worried about what he was going to say to me… wasn't it? I sighed and shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I was far too drunk to think about this now.

"Four blackouts," the barman announced, placing the drinks on the counter and handing me my change.

"Thanks," I replied, tucking the change in my bra and struggling to pick up all four glasses without dropping any of them.

I walked back to the table, where my three friends cheered when I arrived and placed the drinks down. I grabbed one, and downed it, scrunching my eyelids at the taste. I didn't usually drink, but with all that had been going on this week, I thought that I deserved it.

* * *

Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed! X As always, please tell me what you think by chucking me a review. x


	11. Quite the Surprising Proposal

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the reviews and follows, you guys rock. Not to give away any spoilers, but tensions rise in this chapter ;) (Also, if anyone here is on Wattpad, I have also posted this story there, so please review and like xx) my username is still thearrowsoflegolas x

Alrighty on with the chapter.

* * *

To say that I was surprised when I got the email from the Professor would be an understatement. It was five weeks since what T'yonga and I had taken to calling the 'Great Apology', and although the Professor was no longer rude to me, he certainly hadn't made any effort to engage conversation. The most chatty that we had ever got was a curt nod of recognition if he walked past me in the corridor, or a 'have a good weekend, Cadet', at four O'Clock on a Friday when I finally went home. The email was short, curt and to the point, everything that I expected from a Vulcan.

 _Cadet Birchwood,_

 _Meet me in my office (Room F266) at 1600 hours tomorrow._

 _There is something which I need to discuss with you._

 _Professor S._

No 'please', no 'thank you'. Not even signed with his full name, just 'Professor S.' I had got the email at 9:00 am exactly, and had spent the whole day with it playing on my mind. T'yonga was keen to offer up a few suggestions about what the 'something' that he needed to discuss may be.

"He's probably going to ask you for a quick shag." she snorted when I told her.

As always, curt and straight to the point. And completely off the mark. The fact that I was certain that T'yonga was incorrect did nothing to hide the monstrous blush that spread all over my face at her words. Ever since Jackie had drunkenly let slip that I had a slight crush on the Professor, which I DO NOT, T'yonga had been entirely incorrigible. Every second word out of her mouth had been an innuendo, and when I told her about the mysterious email, she had acted like it was her birthday and Christmas rolled up into one.

"You know, Vulcans only have sex once every seven years, so I'd imagine you'd be quite unsatisfied with a relationship…" she continued, smothering a giggle as she peeled an orange, splayed out on the sofa in a yellow fuzzy dressing gown. I poured myself a glass of apple juice from the carton in the fridge, sniffing it first to make sure that it was still in date, before falling into the pink spotted beanbag on the floor like all the bones had been pulled out of my body. I was exhausted, and it was only ten thirty.

"They only _mate_ once every seven years, 'Yonga. It's different. And for the last time I am _not_ going to have sex with a Vulcan."

She made a face that made it clear exactly what she thought of my statement, 'absolute bullshit' and went back to peeling her orange, popping a small segment into her mouth and chewing it thoughtfully whilst she searched for something else irritating to say. I took a sip of my apple juice and gagged, spitting it back out into the cup. Obviously the smell-test had been incorrect, because it had fermented so much that I was feeling woozy just tasting it. I heaved myself up from the beanbag and went back over to the fridge, checking the back of the carton.

" _Best Before September 17_ _th_ _?!_ " I almost yelled, and glared at T'yonga, "That was three weeks ago. I think my taste-buds have been burnt off."

T'yonga just chortled as I threw the offending juice in the bin, and poured my glass down the sink. I grabbed the next best thing, a half-full bottle of milk, in date, thankfully, and poured myself a tall glass. I pulled a wooden chair out from behind the table, which was quickly being buried under a pile of outstanding loan letters and the occasional periodic table. I cleared myself a space and rested my head on my hands and groaned loudly.

"So… what do _you_ think it's about, then?"

T'yonga's question was lost on me.

"What do I think what's about? The meaning of life?"

"The _email_ , you ninny."

Oh. Yeah. That.

To be completely honest, I wasn't sure. I regarded it with a slight amount of apprehension. Surely if everything was alright, there would be no need for him to contact me? I must have done something wrong, must have forgotten to hand in an assignment or failed badly on one of the weekly tests he set for us.

Or… My heart thumped in terror as my mind wandered. Maybe T'yonga's mouth had been slightly louder than she had intended it being and somebody had caught wind of my _entirely fabricated_ affections towards him? I felt my mouth go dry as I considere the possibility. The embarrassment of having to sit opposite him as he 'hmm'ed and 'aha'ed his way through the entire ordeal, before sending me off with my tail between my legs and a lecture in inappropriate student-teacher relationships. It wasn't as if I actually harboured feelings for him, was it?

Was it?

My mind went back to our last proper conversation, 'The Great Apology'. When he had called my name, and asked me to stay behind to talk to him, I had definitely had a strong feeling in my gut, a powerful sensation, but that was just fear. Wasn't it? I had to admit to myself that he was quite attractive, in a Vulcan sort of way. His eyes were a deep brown, like the bark of an old tree, and just as wise. I was sure that someone could get lost in them.

Not me, obviously, but someone.

And he was lean and muscled, but not in an overbearing way. He held strength in his body that I was sure would be a good match to any of the over-muscled fitness freaks on campus. His arse wasn't half bad either.

I flushed red at the last thought, and rubbed my tired eyes. That was _not_ where my mind needed to be going.

T'yonga was looking at me expectantly, and I realised that I had completely forgotten to answer her question.

"Oh the email, yeah," I covered up for my temporary lapse in concentration, "I don't know. Probably a test I failed or something…"

She sighed at the boringness of my response and pushed herself up off the sofa, chucking her orange peel in the bin, and missing.

"I'm off to bed, make sure you tell me what happens tomorrow!" she said as she padded off towards the bedroom, shedding her fluffy dressing-gown like a second skin.

I watched her saunter off with a smile on my face, as I bent down to pick up her discarded orange peel and chuck it in the bin.

"Throw your own bloody garbage in the bloody bin next bloody time!" I yelled after her as she disappeared into the darkness of the room. I was answered by a loud 'UUnhghhh'. Alright, well it appeared that she wasn't quite in the mood for cleanliness at the moment. I rolled my eyes and followed her into the bedroom, removing my slippers and sliding in under the covers. I would need a lot of sleep, because by the looks of it, I had a big day tomorrow…

* * *

I awoke to the blaring of an obnoxiously perky alarm clock, and a pillow being thrown at my head by T'yonga. Of course, it was a Thursday. The only day in the week where she had no first lesson, and therefore a lie-in. She probably didn't appreciate being rudely awoken at ten to seven in the morning. I dragged myself to the bathroom and had a quick shower, before plaiting my wet hair in a thick plait down my left shoulder. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Not too bad, surprisingly. I added a quick sweep of black eyeliner and a dash of lipgloss and really, I was quite pretty. And no, my sudden interest in my appearance didn't have _anything_ to do with a certain meeting happening later on today. Could a girl not just want to look good for once without a guy being involved?

I convinced myself that yes, she could.

When I got back into the bedroom, I threw on a pair of black skinny jeans and my black leather Doc Martens, and tossed a blue shirt over my head. Taking one final glance back at T'yonga, whose toned green leg was sticking out from under her covers at a very unnatural angle, I shoved my PADD into my trusty leather satchel and snuck out of the front door, trying to close it as quietly as I could.

The whole day dragged on as slowly as it possibly could. I sat through a two and a half hour lecture on Gorn breeding patters, and not even the constant innuendos from Pierre, who had become my lecture-buddy, could make me smile. I was too worried about the subject of the meeting that I had with Professor Spock.

By ten to four, I was waiting outside the Professor's Office door, making absolutely sure that there was _no_ chance of me being late. Anxiety crept into my chest, and I pulled my PADD out of my bag, and flicked through my timetable, just to give me something to do. I wondered again what the point of this meeting would be. Surely if I had done badly in a test, he would just tell me during the next lesson? There was no need for a one to one conversation. The longer I waited, leaning on the door outside his office, the larger the sense of unease and anxiety in my gut became.

The sound of quiet footsteps walking towards me brought me out of my revere, and I glanced up from my PADD to see the Professor coming down the corridor, his face as stony as ever, looking down at the first of a large stack of papers in his hands. I could feel my heartbeat quicken as he strode towards me, engrossed in his reading. When he finally reached the door to his office, he looked up, and his eyes widened in shock to see me.

"Cadet. I wasn't expecting you this early." He said, his eyebrows raised in surprise with his statement, the most expressive I've ever seen his face before.

"Well," I replied, standing up straight and placing my PADD back in my bag, the corner of my mouth lifting into a grin "I didn't want to be late…"

Had I imagined it or did the left third of his mouth twitch up in what wasn't quite a smile, but certainly wasn't the stoic emptiness that he usually displayed? It was gone in a second regardless, and was quickly replaced by his usual blank mask. He walked past me and unlocked the door to his office with his ID card, holding the door open.

"Please Cadet, after you."

I walked into the room, and had a look around me. It was exactly as I had expected. Bare walls, and a single, large wooden desk, stacked high with papers, one uncomfy-looking chair on either side of it. There was a soft 'click' as the door closed behind me, and I realised with a sudden jolt that I was shut in a room… with the Professor. My heart beat slightly faster, and I wasn't 100% sure that it was down to fear.

"Please, take a seat." He made his way over to the other side of the desk and cleared a space, and I sat down opposite him. I was correct in my assumption. The chairs were bloody uncomfortable.

"Cadet. I assume you are wondering as to the purpose of this meeting?"

Alright. May as well get straight to the point.

"Um. Well. Yes." I replied ever-so-eloquently, "Have I done something wrong?"

His eyebrow quirked slightly in a way that I assumed was confusion, but you could never really judge the facial expressions of a guy whose entire visage seemed to be carved out of marble.

"No, Miss Birchwood, quite the opposite. You are here because I have a favour to ask of you."

My hands were getting sweatier by the minute, and I took the cover of the high table as a way to wipe them on my thighs. A favour? What could it possibly be that he wanted that I could give him? My mind automatically strayed to T'yonga's comments last night, and I felt blood rush to my face. I'm pretty sure _that_ wasn't the kind of favour he was looking for…

"I'm having some difficulty keeping up with the workload of all my marking, and was wondering if you would be willing to assist me with it in exchange for extra credit?"

Well. That certainly wasn't what I had in mind. I leaned forwards slightly, entwining my hands together and placing them in front of me on the desk. I saw him stiffen slightly, his eyes flicking between my hands and my face. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. What on earth was the matter with him?

"How much work would this entail?" I asked, and his eyes focused back on my face as I spoke. I may have been imagining it, but I was sure that I could see a slightly green tinge to his cheeks. Maybe it was just the lighting.

He coughed and cleared his throat, before leaning back in his seat. I couldn't help but notice the musky scent of his aftershave due to his close proximity. My heart beat faster.

"I'm aware that you have a heavy workload already, Cadet, so for the time being, I would only ask for your help for one hour every Friday, once College has finished at four O'Clock."

I nodded and shifted my hands on the table, tapping my right thumb with my left, considering his proposal.

The Professor made a slight choking noise at the back of his throat, but covered it up with a loud cough.

"Are you alright, Sir?" I asked, concerned, "I have a bottle of water in my bag if you have a sore throat?"

He shook me off with a wave of his hand, looking almost embarrassed.

"Are you prepared to make this sacrifice or not, Cadet? Because I could easily recruit somebody else if you are unwilling. It's entirely your decision. I understand that you have a lot of commitments."

I smiled then, a beaming smile that appeared to take him aback slightly.

"Yes. I am. I'm always a sucker for extra credit, Sir. When do I start?"

He seemed surprised by my instant acceptance, but recovered quickly, "If you're ready, we can begin tomorrow. You will be marking papers completed by first-years, so you shouldn't find it too much of a challenge."

"Brilliant." I replied, and I meant it. It was always a struggle for me to make time for extra credit, so I was thrilled that I could do so by completing such easy work.

"That is all, Cadet. You are dismissed."

I nodded respectfully and stood up, scraping my chair loudly on the floor as I did. The Professor rolled his eyes, and I muttered a quick, "Sorry," before slinging my bag over my shoulder and speeding out of the room. I took a look behind me as I left, and saw Spock leaning backwards in his chair, an expression of intense discomfort on his face. I closed the door behind myself. He must have a cold, that must be it. There was something going round at the moment.

I let out a loud relieved sigh when the door closed with a soft 'click'. Well that was unexpected, but much less painful than imagined. An hour of marking a week, that didn't seem so bad, especially because I would be marking the papers from the younger students. It seemed like a great way to earn a bit of extra credit. It would of course mean working in close proximity with the Professor for the rest of the year, but I supposed that I could get used to uncomfortable silences.

I walked out of the building into the chilly October air, my breath making steam as I left the campus, one though whirling around my mind...

'I wonder what T'yonga would think of all this?'

* * *

For those of you confused by Spock's reaction, in Vulcan culture, hands are seen as very sensitive and intimate, so you can imagine his feelings when Alex entwined her fingers together right in front of him. As always, please tell me if you liked it xx


	12. A Strange and Unexpected Cup of Tea

This chapter is dedicated to my anonymous 'knight in shining armour' who wrote a lovely review in response to a decidedly less lovely 'flame' review.

Wherever you are, cheers. And in response to the 'flame', Spock's reaction is party due to the intimacy and proximity of the conversation, as it is just the two of them alone, as well as the fact that he may *cough cough* see Alex as more than just a student *cough cough*

Anyhoo, on with the chapter x

* * *

The answer to my question was found out soon enough. As soon as I walked through the door I was barraged with questions from my roommate. T'yonga was perched on the counter in an oversized t-shirt with a picture of a fat orange cat drinking a margherita, and blue tracksuit pants. Her eyes lit up when I finally got home.

"What did he want? What did he ask you? Did he ask you for a quic-"

"He wants me to mark some papers for him." I cut T'yonga off, not wanting to hear the end of her third question, "I'm staying after Uni Tomorrow for an hour to mark first year's papers for extra credit."

She was silent for a while, then hopped off the counter and placed the kettle on the hob, looking back at me with a smile, "And that's _all_?"

I threw my leather jacket and satchel messily on the couch, following them quickly by plonking myself down, un-braiding my hair and letting it fall in dark waves around my shoulders, deliberately not answering her question.

"Cup of tea?" T'yonga asked, clattering around in the kitchen.

"I'd love one, thanks," I replied, stretching my feet out in front of me and resting them on the beige footstool, kicking off my heavy black boots and wiggling my toes.

"Why aren't you going out, 'Yonga? It's only five at night?" I asked her. Usually, T'yonga wasn't there when I got home, preferring to stay in college for an extra hour to get her work done before heading off to one of the many pubs and clubs in the area to catch up with James. T. Kirk, who she was still going strong with, much to my surprise.

She sighed and came to sit next to me, handing me a large mug of tea and taking a sip out of her own, placing her long legs next to mine on the footstool.

"Jim's not in the mood. He's pissed off."

I sat up in interest, looking at her in concern. Jim was annoyed? Jim always seemed like the kind of guy who always had a smile on his face. What could possibly have annoyed him?

"What happened, what did you do?"

She threw back her head in laughter, her curly red hair bouncing.

"Why do you always assume that _I'm_ in the wrong, Alex? It's not me he's annoyed at, it's the academy."

My eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "The _academy_? Why's he pissed off wth the academy?"

She placed her tea on her lap, and adjusted her position, whilst I took a sip of mine. It was perfect, just the right balance of sugar and milk. I nodded at her to show my appreciation and she smiled in recognition.

"I may not be able to make toast, but I can make a damn good cup of tea. Anyway, Jim's pissed off at the academy because he failed this big test. He thinks it was rigged."

I snorted to myself at the audacity of the situation, as if Starfleet would ever rig a test, and T'yonga smiled at my reaction.

"Yeah, tell me about it. He's _convinced_ that it's impossible to complete. It's got a Japanese name or something, like the Kiboyaru Maura, I don't know."

My ears pricked up at the name, and suddenly, I understood.

"You mean the _kobayashi maru?_ " I asked incredulously, shocked that T'yonga had never heard of it. It was practically infamous. The test, given to future captains, was apparently impossible to complete. I had seen countless captains-in-training exiting the Kobayashi Maru test looking like they wanted to kill somebody, sometimes themselves.

"That's like the _worst_ test in the whole of Starfleet, 'Yonga. I think Spock helped to design it."

Her eyes lit up, and she looked at me with a shit-eating grin on her face as I realised my mistake.

" _Spock?_ " she almost yelled, "So you're on first name terms now, eh?" she elbowed me in the ribs playfully almost causing me to spill my tea.

"I just meant that the Commander-"

"Ah ah ah don't backtrack now..."

I tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably and ended up grinning at her, "I'm not crushing on a Vulcan, Y'onga. Honestly."

"He's hot for a Vulcan."

"Not crushing."

"And he's smart..."

" _Not crushing..."_

She grinned, and turned the electric fire up with her PADD, basking the room in a cosy firelight glow, before grabbing a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' from the dusty pile of books on the marked coffee table and opening it up at the first page, taking another sip from her mug.

"No need to lie to me, Alex. I've been your friend too long, I can see when you like someone."

And with that crypitic statement, she took another sip of her tea and begun to read. I smiled to mysef, and opened up my own bag, taking out my 'Parametric Equations' homework and my graphical calculator. I had a maths lesson tomorrow, and didn't want to hand in my homework late, especially not right after the Professor had told me that he had faith in my punctuality.

* * *

" _All_ of them?!" I asked incredulously, struggling to see over the mound of papers that the Professor had placed on my desk in front of me, "In _one hour_?"

He rolled his eyes and sat opposite from me on the other side of his desk, placing the other half of the bundle of papers next to himself. The clock on the wall of the Professor's Office read 4:05. I had 55 minutes to mark the equivalent of three trees worth of papers, and by the confused look on the Professor's face, he expected me to do it without any bother.

"It's simple fractional division, Cadet. Surely you're capable?"

Alright. Well I guess I should start marking, then. I picked up the first paper and clicked my red pen on the desk, looking at the first question, scribbled hastily in black ballpoint pen. I snorted, and earned a shocked glance from the Commander, his dark brown eyes concerned.

"Are you quite well, Cadet?"

I gestured to the page with my pen.

"This guy just divided six by two and got six."

Was that a tiny quirk of his lip? It was gone in a second, regardless, and replaced with a face that showed no emotion.

"I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that, Cadet." He said plainly, before picking up his pen and beginning to write.

We stayed like that in silence for a good half hour, furiously scribbling, trying desperately to get all the papers marked in time. I looked up from my work occasionally, but the Professor was completely focused, never letting his attention stray from the task at hand. He worked very methodically, marking his papers with an almost smug flair. By the time that he had completed half of his pile, I had only completed a quarter of mine. The continuous tick-tick-ticking of the clock constantly brought me out of focus, and I had to admit that the steady sound of the Vulcan's breathing was quite distracting.

When the large clock on the wall read 4:40, the Professor stood up, causing me to look up in alarm as he scraped his chair on the floor. He glanced at me, and I looked back down at my half-marked paper, unwilling to make eye contact. He silently walked over to the side of his office, and I heard the sound of running water. I looked up in confusion, and was surprised to see him standing by the sink, his long fingers grasping the handle of a beige teapot.

I was positive that wasn't there yesterday.

He looked back at me, his dark eyes scarily intense. Vulcans were not the most social of species, and didn't understand that prolonged eye contact made people uncomfortable. It certainly made _me_ uncomfortable, as I began to fidget with my pen under his gaze, my fingers twirling it around my left hand. His eyes darted to the pen, and he quickly looked away, turning around so his back was to me, his body rigid.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Cadet?" he asked me, and it may just have been my imagination but his voice seemed a little strained.

I was surprised to say the least. I didn't realise that Vulcans even _drank_ tea, I thought it was just a human thing. When I didn't answer, he turned around to look at me once more, taking in the confused look on my face.

"Are you quite alright, Cadet?"

"Sorry, Sir." I answered, embarrassed with myself, "I just didn't know that Vulcans liked tea."

His face appeared almost…. sheepish. It must have been the low-watt institutional lighting, because it was back to normal in a second.

"We do not usually, Cadet. However I was led to believe that you, coming from where you do, regard it as a pleasant drink?"

Coming from where I do? I smirked to myself, which I saw him take note of. It was good to know that English stereotypes were the same for Vulcans as they were for humans.

"Yes. I do, Sir." I answered him quickly, to which he gave a satisfied nod, and poured out two cups.

I was taken aback to say the least. It made no sense that he would have a teapot in his private office if he didn't even drink the stuff. Unless…

My heart skipped a beat, then continued its steady rhythm. Surely he didn't…

"Sir?" I asked as he walked back to our cluttered table, placing my cup of tea on front of me and carrying his back to his side of the desk, "Did you… did you get that teapot just for me?"

He sat down in his chair, picking up the next of his papers, and looked at me.

"Yes, Cadet. I did."

My heart began to speed up slightly, pumping in my ears.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, now completely not concentrating on Cadet Jackson Lightman's fractional division homework, on which he was currently scoring a D-Grade.

"You're giving up your time to help me, Cadet. I'd like to make sure that you are comfortable here. Is the tea to your standard?"

He gestured to the steaming cup in front of me, and I lifted it up and took a small sip, scalding my tongue on the hot liquid. All in all, it was a decent cup of tea.

"Very nice, Sir. Thank you."

He nodded and took a sip of his own, making a face and coughing slightly at the taste. I barked out a laugh, and he looked up at me in alarm at the sudden noise, but relaxed when he saw the smile on my face.

"Not a fan, Sir?" I asked, and he gave me a unreadable look. He placed the offending cup of tea to the side, and pulled out a bottle of water from a drawer under his desk.

"It's not quite my cup of tea, I'm afraid, Cadet."

Was that…? Did he just make a joke? I wasn't given time to comprehend it regardless, as he grabbed his pen and immediately began scribbling again.

"We still have fifteen minutes, Cadet. I would advise to get as much marking done as possible." And with that we continued our silence.

I eventually reached a question that had me stumped. Not because of its difficulty, but because of the weird and roundabout way the student had attempted to solve it. I bit the corner of my lip, my eyes scanning the page, trying to figure out how many marks out of seven his working deserved. He had, technically, got the right answer. He'd just managed to do it with all the _wrong_ formulae.

I worried my lip slightly more with my teeth, before jotting down a quick (5) next to his answer, happy with my judgement. I felt eyes on me, and looked up, and was shocked to see the Professor looking directly at me, or rather at my bottom lip, which was currently trapped between my teeth. The tops of his ears were flushed a pale green, and his eyes, which had always been a dark brown, seemed almost black. As soon as I looked up, he immediately snapped his gaze back down again, focusing intently in the work in front of him, making me wonder if I had see anything at all.

By the time that the clock had reached five, I had convinced myself that I had imagined the expression on the Professor's face, and happily packed up my bags and finished my dregs of tea when he said, "You are dismissed, Cadet." in his usual stern voice.

"Same time next week, Sir?" I asked, and he nodded.

"If the timing suits you."

I smiled, and he appeared slightly taken aback by the display of emotion.

"It suits me just fine, thanks. Sorry I couldn't finish..."

I gestured to the unmarked papers still on the desk. I had completed over half of them, but many remained unmarked.

"Not a problem, Cadet." he reassured me, "I'm much farther on now than I would have been without your help. Thank you."

Had I heard correctly? Had I just been thanked by a Vulcan? I threw my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my jacket, which had been thrown over the back of my chair.

"You're very welcome, Sir."

And with that, I walked off, closing the door tightly behind me.

* * *

ALRIGHT THERE WE GO! Hope that was alright for you, please leave me a review telling me what you think of how the relationship between Alex and Spock is moving forward (I never know if I'm going too fast or too slow)


	13. Knight in Pointy-Eared Armour

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS holy shit 11 on a chapter is my all time record

(let's see if we can beat in in this chapter, *wink wink*)

This Chapter is dedicated two ways. Firstly to Becky, who designed the fantastic cover that you can see up in the top left hand corner. She is incredible. (also, if you want to know, the woman on the cover is Katie McGrath (Morgana from Merlin and my face-claim for Alex))

Secondly, to Erin. Who told me that if i didn't dedicate a chapter to her, she would out me at College as someone who writes Star Trek fanfiction. This is for you, asshole.

(I may or may not have accidentally Twilight-ed this chapter. I wrote it and reread it and realized that what happens near the end is very Twilight-y. Please do not hate me, I try my best.

Anyway, onwards and upwards. (Also here is a super long chapter for you. I'm sorry i couldn't stop writing. Hope you enjoy x (Also, if anyone is wondering about the spelling, e.g realise instead of realize, I am spelling using British English rather than American English, so sorry for any confusion x

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"No, but he literally bought a brand new teapot," I urged, much to T'yonga's amusement, "For _me_."

She chuckled to herself, and placed her drink down on the bar, looking at me with what could almost be described as _sympathy_. It was once again just her and me, and despite being exhausted after a long day yesterday, I had decided that going out on a Saturday night wasn't such a bad idea. The bar was buzzing with Starfleet students, and a few teachers, who all had the same idea.

"A _teapot_?" she asked incredulously, her left eyebrow quirking up in amusement, "Well. It's basically a proposal, then."

I rolled my eyes at her reaction and took another sip of my strawberry daiquiri cocktail, resting my elbow on the bar.

"All I'm saying is that it was odd, don't you think? That he cared so much about whether I was comfortable?"

"Alex. You're going to have to stop pretending that he doesn't affect you."

Her response took me by surprise and I was frozen in silence for a few seconds. Surely I wasn't pretending anything? I liked him, of course. He was polite, and since apologising to me for his original behaviour, I realised that he was also relatively kind. Well, kind for a Vulcan.

" _Affect_ me?" I repeated T'yonga's words back at her in an attempt to try to make sense out of them.

"Oh, come on, Alex. I've known you longer than anyone in this goddamn Country, even Bones."

My lip quirked up at the mention of my dissection teacher. T'yonga and I had often discussed him, me usually talking about his teaching methods, her reflecting on how good his arse looked in a suit.

"You can't look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't have even the tiniest, most minuscule bit of a crush on him."

I sighed, and took another sip of my drink, before staring T'yonga directly in the eyes, not even blinking.

"I do not have even the tiniest, most minuscule crush on him." I deadpanned and she laughed, throwing back her head dramatically.

"Denial, my darling, the first stage of realisation."

We were interrupted in our little chat by an already bladdered James Tiberius Kirk, who staggered up to us both, half a glass of cider in his hand. He slung his arm around T'yonga's shoulder, but looked directly at me.

"Alex." He said, "You're friends with pointy-ears, aren't you?"

I was taken aback by his question, but regained my composure quickly.

"I wouldn't go as far as _friends_ , Jim, but I'm an acquaintance."

"Acquaintance, shamaintance. Can you get into his private files or not?"

That question really did render me speechless for a good ten seconds. What the hell could a Cadet like Jim Kirk want with the Commander's Private files? It wasn't as if he was planning on getting some algebraic division done in his spare time.

"No, James. I can't." I responded quickly, and he pouted comically, before dragging up a stool and sitting next to T'yonga, "Why do _you_ want to?" I enquired.

He sighed, and crossed his legs, "The Kobayashi Maru."

That was all the answer I needed. Spock personally designed the Kobayashi Maru, a test so difficult that nobody in Starfleet history had ever passed it. I recalled T'yonga telling me about Jim's failure in it a few days ago, and understood his plan completely.

"No." I said simply, "No way, never. I'm not going to help you cheat your way into the cabin of a ship by risking my own degree. That's not going to happen, Jim."

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Birchwood, it was just a suggestion." He gave me an easy-going smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Worth a try."

I snorted, and took another sip of my cocktail, beginning to feel the alcohol go to my head.

"Sorry, Jim." I said, and meant it, despite everything. He was a nice guy, I didn't blame him for trying to beat the system.

"Nah, don't worry about it, Alex. Honestly. It was a long shot anyway." He gave a small smirk, this one making his eyes twinkle, and I knew that he had understood me. T'yonga, on the other hand, didn't.

"I'll help you!" She almost yelled, to which Jim turned and looked at her with a beaming grin.

"And how do you plan on doing that, 'Yong? You gonna seduce the Vulcan? Somehow I doubt that would work."

I snorted at the mental image of T'yonga trying to seduce Commander Spock, and him getting increasingly more and more flustered at her advances. I tried to ignore the small but definitely noticeable stab of anger in my gut at the suggestion. What was wrong with me? I thought back to my earlier conversation with T'yonga.

It wasn't a _crush_ , surely?

I admired him, from a purely professional point of view of course, but was there anything more than that? I tried to picture him in slightly different situations, testing my theory in my mind. I imagined him touching my hands, my face, my lips. I flushed red. I liked that mental image a little too much for my liking.

"No, stupid," replied the Orion, bringing me out of my personal monologue, "I'm an engineering student. I _live_ for fucking around with code."

Jim's eyes widened slightly in realisation, and his grin got even bigger. An engineering student. He had hit the jackpot.

"Of _course_!" he almost yelled, "Perfect! I have the test again in a month, is that enough time?"

T'yonga bit her lip, and the light in Jim's eyes made me wonder for a second if this had been his plan all along. To get T'yonga's attention in order to gain her help. I pushed the thought from my mind almost instantly, Jim was many things, but I couldn't see him being cruel just to get his own way.

"I can't say for certain, but I sure can try, Jim."

T'yonga clapped her hands together in glee, and Jim clinked his glass with hers, and downed his remaining half a pint of cider in three long draughts. He clapped her on the shoulder, and his expression was like that of an eight year old boy who just found out he got a bike for Christmas.

"I've got a copy of the base code sequence on my laptop," he held up his hand as I opened my mouth, and looked at me, the familiar cheeky glint back in his eyes, "Better not to ask, Birchwood. You seem like the kind of girl who wouldn't want to get messed up in illicit activities."

I harrumphed in jest, and T'yonga giggled and patted my shoulder, winking at me, "Unless those illicit activities involve canoodling with members of staff…"

I stuck my tongue out at her, immature, I knew, but she laughed anyway. She looked at Jim expectantly, and I could see the cogs whirring in her brain. She was dying to get her hands on that base-code. Despite her party-girl attitude, T'yonga was one of the most intelligent people I knew, probably one of the most intelligent in Starfleet. Give her a juicy code to bite into, and she'd crack it in a matter of minutes. I gave her a smile, and downed the rest of my cocktail.

"Go back to Jim's, 'Yonga. I know you can't wait to get your teeth into the Kobayashi Maru."

She gave me a concerned look, "How are you gonna get home, Birchwood?"

I shook my head at her worry, "I'll get a taxi, I'll be fine."

She looked unsure, but I could see that she was desperate to have a look at what made one of the most infamous tests in Starfleet history tick. Eventually she made up her mind and stood up, giving me a tight hug, and putting a crisp twenty dollar bill in my hand. I looked up in shock, but she smiled and winked at me.

"Taxi's on me tonight, Alex. Get home safe. I'll be late back." She leaned over and gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, before linking her arm into Jim's and allowing herself to be led out of the bar. I glanced around myself for a moment, before standing up and pulling my thick coat on.

I left the bar to a surprisingly dark night, and wrapped my arms around myself, protecting myself from the cold, walking down the busy street. There was a taxi rank roughly a ten minute walk from the bar, so I strode out quickly, keen to get home. I checked my watch, half eleven, and sighed to myself as my leather boots splashed through the large puddles dotted around the cobbled sidewalk.

As I walked away from town, the number of people milling around decreased, until I walked alone, the streetlights casting long, spidery shadows on the uneven paths. A gust of cold wind blew through my hair, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest, relieved that I had gone out in a sloppy blue jumper and black skinny jeans rather than a short dress. I would have been freezing.

"Hey baby, how you doing?" The voice took me by surprise, and I jumped slightly, whipping my head around to see a young man, no older than twenty-five, with a lean but muscled figure and a light smattering of blonde stubble on his jawline, walking behind me, his hands tightly in his pockets. I smiled politely, and continued walking, slightly faster.

"Heeey now, where do you think you're going?" There was a drunken tone to his voice that I didn't trust, and I looked back around at him, any trace of a smile gone from my face.

"I'm going home." I responded curtly, quickening my pace. The last thing that I needed on a Saturday night was to be harassed by a stranger. A heavy hand rested on my shoulder, and my heart jumped in surprise.

"Leave me alone." I said, shaking off his hand, he quickened his pace and gave me a leering smile that made me want to gag.

"Ooh. An English girl?" he said, noticing my accent, "Is it true what they say about you?"

I rolled my eyes and answered back sarcastically, "That we hate random guys coming up to us on the street and trying to chat us up. Yes. It's true."

He chuckled, and maneuvered himself in front of me, blocking my path and causing me to stop walking.

"No," he grinned, "That you hate sex. Want to test it out on me?"

I raised my hand, fully intending to give him a hearty right hook, but he grabbed my arm tightly as it came up, locking it in place.

"Hey now," he smiled at me, the scent of alcohol on his breath, "don't be getting feisty."

I took a step back involuntarily, and was planning on running, when out of nowhere, a sleek black car screeched to a halt beside us. The man loosened his grip immediately now that we had company, and looked up to see who had been so rude as to disrupt him. The car, much to my surprise, had wheels, unlike most, which had now upgraded to flying. That must have been what had made the screeching sound.

The window rolled down, and I was shocked to see a very familiar Vulcan sat in the driving seat, his face like thunder.

"Who's this joker?" Muttered the man, glaring at the Professor with a look that would make lesser men shrink.

"Birchwood. Get in the car." His voice was curt and to the point, and I wasted no time in doing what he said, running around the front of the car and yanking open the passenger seat, slipping inside.

"Thanks," I muttered, and he nodded imperceptibly at me, before turning his attention back to the man outside, who looked a lot less confident under the intense gaze of the Professor.

"Name?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, pointy?"

Spock stiffened at his response, his fingers clenching the wheel of the car so tightly that his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

"I asked for your name." His voice was like ice.

The man laughed, and staggered drunkenly forwards towards the car window, looking directly at Spock.

"Matthew Jacobson. What the hell are you going to do about it?"

"My name, Matthew Jacobson, is Commander Spock, Senior Mathematics Tutor at Starfleet."

The man's face turned white as he began to comprehend his words. He was in deep shit.

"And judging by your attire," Spock gestured towards the man's thick woolen scarf, bearing the Starfleet logo, "You are one of our pupils."

"Sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sir… I didn't mean it, we were just having a bit of fun..." Matthew begged, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Let's see how longer you remain a pupil once I discuss this event with your Form Tutor."

Before the man had a chance to comment, or argue his defense, Spock had placed his foot on the pedal and sped off, leaving him stood in the rain. He drove in silence for a good twenty seconds, his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel, before he turned to me, his eyes dark.

"Are you hurt, Alex? Did he hurt you?" His voice was strained slightly, and I could see a green tinge begin to form on the tops of his ears, but what had surprised me most was the use of my first name. For all the time that I had known him, he had either called me 'Cadet' or 'Miss. Birchwood'. 'Alex' was new and unexplored territory. It was different, familiar... _intimate_.

I rubbed my wrist where I had been grabbed and forced out a smile, "I'm fine. Honestly." I couldn't keep the shake out of my voice. I was the opposite of fine. If he hadn't of been there, God knows what would have happened. Which begs the question, why was he there in the first place?

"What are you doing on the roads at this time on a Saturday night, Sir?" I asked him, my heart slowly beginning to return to its original rate after my run-in, and he trained his eyes back on the roads, which he was maneuvering with expert precision.

"I was working at the University." He said simply, "Fourth years have exams coming up, and I was writing up their papers."

"At eleven O'Clock on a Saturday night?" I asked incredulously, and a small hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips, though his face remained strained.

"I'm not a student, Cadet."

We were back to ' _Cadet_ ' apparently. So much for familiarity.

"As a member of staff. My job doesn't finish when the University day finishes. My job finished once I have completed all of my work."

I nodded in understanding, it made sense that he would be working, of all things.

"Where do you live, Cadet?"

The question took me by surprise, and I was stumped for an answer for a few seconds.

"Block H7, Sir."

He nodded, and turned a corner, and I understood his question.

"Oh. No there's no need to drive me home, Sir. I can walk from here, honestly."

I heard an audible sigh.

"I would feel more comfortable knowing that you are home and safe, Cadet." Was his simple answer, as he continued to sped along the empty road. The silence in the car was deafening, making the Commander's steady breathing all too audible. We turned another corner, and he reached to the gear stick, accidentally brushing my thigh with the back of his hand. Even through jean fabric, I could feel the warmth from his skin leaching into mine, and I gasped quietly, before flushing bright red. I hope he didn't hear that. I swore that I saw him stiffen for a millisecond, before composing himself, and placing his hand back on the wheel, looking directly forwards, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I glanced around myself, trying to take my mind off the smooth skin of his hand, and noticed that the car smelt of his aftershave, the same musky, heady scent that filled his office. My throat went dry. I kept chanting the mantra in my head:

 _Not a crush,_

 _Not a crush,_

 _Not a crush._

But I was believing it less and less as the car continued to drive.

All too soon, he stopped, and parked up beside Student block H7, a looming grey building that seemed even more dank and depressing when covered by heavy rainfall. He turned to look at me, and I suddenly became all to aware of his proximity. His eyes, full of a deep emotion that I couldn't quite place my finger on, were trained on my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. I glanced down at them, and realised that they were shaking, though from the cold or from my run in with Matthew Jacobson, I wasn't sure. My heart was beating like a hummingbird, and I knew that it had nothing to do with physical exertion. This was something new entirely. I trained my eyes on at him, and he moved his hand slightly, as if he was going to take mine, but composed himself immediately, and looked up into my eyes, all trace of what was there before gone.

"Get a good night's sleep, Cadet," He said, completely business, "I'm planning on starting a new topic on Monday. You will want to be well rested for it."

That was it. No 'goodbye', no 'stay safe'. A simple 'get a good night's sleep'. I mentally shook myself, pulling myself out of whatever trance I had managed to find myself in, and gave him a beaming smile, which he seemed surprised by.

"Thank you, Sir. If you hadn't have found me-" I reeled off my sentence and left it hanging in the air like dust. It may have been my imagination, but I swore that I could see a flash of pain cross his face at the thought. Before he could day anything else, I pushed open the car door and stepped out into the rain, my already soaking hair getting even more drenched as it fell in rivulets down my face and the bridge of my nose. I gave one last wave, and closed the car door, taking a step back, as he drove off into the night.

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SHIT THERE WE GO GUYS IT IS DONE (Please leave a review they are like my lifeblood)


	14. Sleighbells Ring Are You Listening?

Hello all, thanks for stopping by. At 3700 words, this is my longest chapter to date, so I hope you enjoy. For all of you who are getting impatient about how GODDAMN SLOW this relationship is going, fear not...

something is afoot in this Chapter. I know, mysterious mysterious. I can't help myself.

Also, for those of you who don't know, a 'Secret Santa' is where a group of people each buy a present for a different person in the group, but nobody knows who bought who what, if you get my gist. Hopefully, it explains itself here.

This chapter is dedicated to YOU GUYS for coming back and putting up with me. Hope you enjoy, and as always, please review xx (i got like 25 reviews last time this is wild but pleeeaaasssee I read and treasure every review even the ones that just say 'nice chapter' like I love getting them) Also thank you v much to Becky and Erin, without whom this work would be 65% spelling mistakes and 35% incorrect grammar and lexical choices.

You can all find this story on Wattpad as well here - story/51347583-much-ado-about-vulcan-a-spock-oc-romance-novel

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Christmas came quickly to Starfleet, and by the beginning of December, I could barely move for the amount of tinsel and decorations hanging from the ceilings and walls. The only classroom that I had noticed containing not a single decoration was, _surprise surprise_ , Professor Spock's. His room was as drab and dreary as always, without a single sprig of holly to brighten the mood.

Much to everyone's surprise, though, he had begrudgingly agreed to take part in a class 'Secret Santa' (after a lot of persuasion). Each member of the maths class, including the teacher, put their names into a hat, which were drawn out randomly, one name for each person. That person then had to buy a Christmas present for their assigned person, and bring it in at the end of term, The name I picked out was Jacob Leonard, a quiet boy who sat at the back of the class, and occasionally beat me in the weekly tests that we were given. I bought him a small book of mind-puzzles and a green scarf, because he always seemed to be shivering. When Spock picked his allotted name out of the hat, he had looked at it with a mysterious expression that was a cross between amusement and irritation, and I smiled to myself. I doubted that he had any idea what to buy a student as a Christmas present. Knowing him, he would probably opt for a book on algebraic equations and a calculator.

The Monday after my unexpected rescue from the clutches of a particularly handsy student, I had expected him to confront me and to discuss what had happened, but on the contrary, he had only given me a small nod of recognition at the beginning of my Maths lesson, and had said nothing. I was sure that I hadn't imagined the moment in the car, when he had looked at me like there was nothing that he would rather do than take my hand and never let go, but he seemed adamant to forget it. After the lesson, I had approached him at his desk, bag slung over my shoulder, my hair scraped back into a tight bun, and thanked him.

"What for, Cadet?"

"What for?" I scoffed, "for saving my ass on Saturday night. If it wasn't for you, who knows what would have happened?"

He refused to make eye contact with me, instead looking directly at the papers on his desk, which were certainly not interesting enough to hold his full attention.

"Ah yes. Well, Cadet, you're welcome. I would have done the same for any of my students."

I nodded, and hoisted the bag slightly higher up on my shoulder, and turned to go. Just before I reached the door, however, I turned back again, surprised to see his eyes, not on his desk, but directly on me.

"Just out of curiosity, Sir, what happened to Matthew Jacobson?"

Either it was all in my imagination or he stiffened slightly at the mention of the man who had assaulted me.

"I had a firm discussion with his form tutor, Miss Birchwood. It turns out that this isn't the first time that he has harassed a female student. I believe that at this precise moment-" he glanced at his watch, "He is probably trying to worm his way out of a sexual harassment charge."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I nodded, satisfied with the outcome. If he had done this to other girls as well, not just me, something needed to be done.

"Is that all?" The Professor had asked, and I had given a silent nod, "Dismissed, Cadet."

And that was all that was said on the matter. The following Friday, I had attended my extra credit marking session, and it had gone much the same as the last one. We both stayed in silence for an hour, punctuated only by the Professor offering me a cup of tea, but declining to make one for himself, I noticed. Though he had tried it once, I don't think that he liked it very much, which made the fact that he continued to buy it for me all the more confusing. At five O'Clock, he had dismissed me with a very formal, "I will see you on Monday, Cadet."

My other studies were going great, surprisingly. Leonard McCoy, as always, was an excellent teacher, and my anatomy knowledge was at an all-time high. In the last six assessments that we had been set, I came top in four of them, and despite spending a great deal of my lectures discussing French politics with Pierre, in our November mock exam, I had achieved 187/200. In my Christmas Mock exams, I had passed every test, even maths, so I was entering the last week of term with slightly more spring in my step than many other students who had not done as well.

When the final lesson on the Final Friday of term came, I was more than ready to go home. I had booked a plane ticket to London for later on that day, desperate to get home and see my parents and brother. I entered maths with a grin on my face, excited to be flying home in under five hours.

Sat on Professor Spock's desk was a large cardboard box with ' _Secret Santa_ ' scribbled on it in black sharpie marker. Very festive. I walked up to it and inconspicuously dropped my gift for Jacob, wrapped neatly in blue and silver wrapping paper, into the box, which was already almost full. I took my seat and glanced to my side. Sure enough, Jackie was sat there, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"It's nearly Christmas!" She almost sang at me as I sat down, to which I responded with a hearty laugh.

"It certainly is. Who did you get for Secret Santa?" I asked, but she tapped her nose mysteriously and didn't answer. I wondered for a second if she had chosen _my_ name, as she was so unwilling to reveal the person she had bought a present for.

The last few students trickled into the class, dropping their presents off in the decidedly un-festive box on Professor Spock's desk, whilst he watched them, almost with distain. Once everyone had taken their seats, he stood up, and walked towards the large interactive whiteboard, picking up an electronic pen and beginning to write.

"Trigonometry is a topic which encompasses every aspect of math."

"Sir?" A voice perked up. Spock stopped mid-sentence and glared at the back of the classroom, shocked at having been interrupted.

"Yes, Cadet Lewis?"

"Well…" A tall handsome boy began, a glint in his eye, "I thought that we were doing a Secret Santa, Sir. Can we not give the presents out first?"

Spock nailed the boy with a look that could have frozen lava, and he stopped talking immediately. If he assumed that, just because it was Christmas, we would have an easy last lesson, he assumed very wrongly.

"At ten to four I will hand out your presents-"

A collective groan from the class, including me. That meant a whole hour and twenty minutes of work. So much for Christmas.

"-And not a second before," Spock continued, unfazed by the disappointment of his students.

"Now," he went back to the board, where he begun to draw a graph of sin/x, "Where were we? Ah yes, trigonometry."

I'm not ashamed to say that I zoned out completely after that, preferring to stare at the wasp that was slowly crawling across the condensed window-pane than at the front of the classroom, where the Professor was going through how to find the coefficient of x⁴. His voice droned on as he spoke, and I found myself looking at him, and not listening to his words. He had great posture, and stood incredibly straight, like someone had taped a stick to his back. I noticed a miniscule smudge of pencil just under his left jawline, where he must have rubbed his finger earlier, as well as a tiny freckle on his neck, just above the neckline of his blue Starfleet regulation Science Officer shirt.

I appeared to have been paying a little too much attention to his face, and not enough on what he was teaching, as an hour into the lesson, he looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"Pardon?" I sat up straight in my seat, embarrassed to have been caught staring, he gave a small quirk of his lip, that most people wouldn't have noticed but I took as a small sign of amusement, and pointed back to the board.

"I _said_ , Miss Birchwood, if you're back with us now and not staring off into space, what is the value of cosπ?"

I looked at the graph on the board, and took a wild guess.

"Um… minus one, Sir?"

"Correct, Birchwood."

Well, that was a surprise.

He turned his back and continued to write on the board, "And if we have a minus one here-"

Once again, I stopped listening, instead watching the large clock at the front of the classroom slowly but surely tick tick tick its way to ten to four. Spock rounded off his lesson, advising everyone to keep up with their studying during the break, then took the large box of presents off his desk and begun to hand them out. He placed Jackie's on her table, a small cube wrapped in pink glittery wrapping appear, and she grinned at me before tearing it open, revealing four nail varnishes, each in a different shade of pink.

"Oh my god I _love_ them," she gushed, before turning to me, " _Thank you_!"

I held my hand up in mock-surrender.

"Not me," I explained, and gestured behinds me to Jacob, who was avidly looking through his book on mind-puzzles, "I got Cadet Leonard."

She wrinkled her brow in confusion, and looked back at the nail varnishes.

"I was _sure_ that you had me…" she muttered.

A cough came from behind me, and I jumped in surprise, my heart in my mouth, to see the Professor looming over me, holding out a rectangular shaped parcel.

"Thank, Sir." I said cheerfully, grabbing it from his hand, and accidentally grazing the backs of his fingers in the process. He visibly stiffened and took a small breath in, but quickly composed himself, nodded respectfully, walking to the front of the class, where he took out his own present and looked at it intently. I wondered for a second what had brought on such an intense reaction in him when it suddenly hit me.

Vulcan hands. Of course. I flushed crimson as I remembered a lecture that I had had with Professor Sh'kaah a few weeks earlier. Vulcan hands were one of the most sensitive parts of the body, and any hand to hand contact was seen as incredibly intimate. My face got redder as I comprehended what had just happened. In Vulcan terms, I had basically just _frenched_ the guy.

"Alex, what's your present?" Asked Jackie, completely unaware of the inner turmoil that I was going through. I looked down at my package, trying to take my mind off my embarrassment.

It was incredibly neatly wrapped, in a wrapping paper that was bright yellow and covered with pictures of cartoon sprouts with party hats on. A tag fell from one corner, with my name, 'Alex' written in beautiful cursive. Instinctively, I glanced upwards to the Professor, who had just finished unwrapping his gift. I let out a guffaw of laughter as I realised that it was a pair of fake novelty glasses, complete with plastic nose and moustache.

He noticed my glance, and held the glasses up to me, a question on his face that seemed to say, _'These from you, Birchwood?'_

I shook my head, holding back a giggle, and went to unwrapping my present.

I peeled off the wrapping paper with care, making sure not to rip it. When it had all been removed, I was left with a blank unmarked cardboard box. I stuck my nail in the corner, prising it open, and pulled out a small object.

An alarm clock.

There was only one person that this could possibly be from.

My gaze darted towards the Professor, whose eyes were trained on me, but looked down as soon as he saw me looking, something that could very almost be described as a smirk on his usually stoic face. I couldn't believe it. A Vulcan with a sense of humour, that was unexpected.

I turned the small clock over in my hands, and noticed a small note stuck to the back with tape, in the same elegant cursive as my name tag.

 _'Now you have no excuse for being late.'_

A fully fledged grin spread across my face as I snorted to myself. A _sassy_ Vulcan with a sense of humour.

"Class," The voice brought me out of my revere, and the Professor stood at the front of the class, the novelty glasses still in his hand. A few students noticed them and choked back giggles.

"I trust that you will all have a pleasant Christmas, and a Happy New Year, and I hope to see you all well and back here next term, ready to learn."

A varying chorus of 'Bye, Sir.', 'Happy Christmas, Sir,' and one 'Nice Glasses, Sir', filled the room as the students filed out one by one, excited to be on holiday. A pressure tugged on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Jackie looking at me expectantly.

"You walking to the bus stop?"

I shook my head, "Sorry, Jackie,"

She nodded in understanding, "Got your extra credit thing, huh?" she asked, gesturing to the Professor, who had taken his seat behind his desk again, rearranging a stack of papers.

"Uh huh," I muttered, and she smiled at me, and patted me on the shoulder, "See you after Christmas, then!"

"You too," I answered back, and she walked out of the classroom, leaving the door open behind her.

I hoisted my heavy bag over my shoulder and walked towards the Professor, alarm clock in hand. He glanced up at me when I reached his desk, and noticed the object that I was holding. There was that strange half-smile again.

"Nice glasses." I said, and he held them up, studying them.

"The complexity of human pranks escapes me, I'm afraid, Cadet." He said honestly, and I smirked and shook my head, before gesturing to the large pile of papers on his desk with my eyes.

"Need a hand with those?"

He looked confused.

"Are you sure, Cadet? I'll give you the day off if you want, it is Christmas, after all."

"Nah, don't worry about it," I shook his concern off with a wave of my hand, before grabbing a substantial pile of papers from the desk, "Isn't the spirit of Christmas supposed to be about helping people anyway?"

He considered my answer, and nodded, seemingly content with it.

"Yes, Cadet. I suppose that it is."

And with that he picked up the remaining pile of papers and walked out of the room, switching the light off with his elbow. I followed him, closing the door with my hip as I exited, and almost jogged to catch up with him as he walked to his office, not too far from his classroom.

"So?" I asked brightly, "Doing anything nice for Christmas?"

"My mother is coming to Earth."

His response surprised me, and I walked in silence for a few seconds, until we reached his office and he opened the door with a scan of his ID card, holding it open for me as I walked inside.

"That's lovely," I finally managed to say. I couldn't imagine his mother, a human. He seemed so Vulcan, it was hard to imagine that there was any red blood mixed in with the green at all.

"Are you?" He asked me as he placed his stack of papers on his large wooden desk, and I followed suit.

"Am I what, sorry?"

"Doing anything nice for Christmas?"

"Ah." I understood, "I'm going back to London this evening," I said, smiling, "Get to finally see my arsehole brother again. It's been four months."

He took a seat, and gestured for me to close the door, which I did, before sitting opposite him and taking my red pen out of my satchel.

"Then I wish you a pleasant trip."

Very formal. Very impersonal. He didn't seem to be dwelling on our earlier finger-touch, so I decided to let it go. Obviously it wasn't bothering him as much as it was me.

He placed a stack of papers in front of me, and I picked up the first one, looking at it with surprise.

"Differentiation?" I asked. Usually, he gave me the easier papers to mark, the papers from the first or second years, but differentiation was a fourth year topic.

"I thought that it would do you good to be challenged, Birchwood." He said simply, and I nodded my head.

"Fair enough."

I took the lid off my pen, and began to mark, as usual in complete silence. The students were clever, most of them getting the answers correct. It made a pleasant change from usual, when I would struggle to find one or two marks amidst a barrage of wrong answers.

After half an hour, as always, Spock would get up from his seat after having marked a good deal more papers than me, and make me a cup of tea. He knew now exactly how to do it, milk no sugar, and he placed it in front of me with a small flourish. I took a sip and the hot liquid scalded my throat, but it was good.

I gave him a thumbs up.

"Good tea, Sir. If you keep going like this, you'll practically be British by the end of this year. Oh, and that reminds me…"

I reached into my satchel, rooting around until I found what I was looking for, a smooth clear globe. I pulled it out and placed it on the desk. It was a snow globe, the white flakes inside it still whirling from its shake-up inside my bag. In the centre of the mini blizzard was a scaled down replica of a red London Bus. Spock looked at it in confusion.

"What… what is that?" he asked.

"It's for you," I said, slightly embarrassed, "To make your office a little bit more festive. You can use it as a paperweight if you want to."

He picked it up, weighing the smooth glass in his hands, before looking at me, and giving me the closest that I had ever seen him smile. No more than a twitch, really, but to me it was obvious. He was very, very happy.

"Thank you very much, Cadet." He said, placing the globe in front of him on the desk, and watching the tiny white flakes as they began to settle, "That was very considerate of you."

"No problem, Sir." I smiled, secretly thrilled with his reaction. I had not known how he would react, if he would be offended, indifferent or something else, but this was definitely better than I had anticipated.

I continued my work, my pen flying across the paper. Occasionally I looked up at him, and once or twice, I noticed that he was looking at me, too. When the clock finally reached five O'Clock, he placed down his pen and let out a short sigh.

"Well, that's your time done, Cadet," he said to me, getting up and walking to the door, opening it.

I packed my pen away in my satchel and stood up, scraping my chair on the floor as I did so. I walked towards the door, but for some reason, suddenly stopped when I reached it, looking up into the Professor's face. He was as surprised as I was at my actions, but instead of stepping backwards, as I had expected, he leaned slightly forwards into me. My heart began to thump as he took a step forwards, until the toes of his boots were touching the toes of mine. He was looking at me with an intensity that surprised me, but I held my ground, refusing to move, refusing to back down. Almost in slow-motion, his hand rose from his side, and he brushed a single strand of hair away from my face, and tucked it behind my ear, the pads of his fingers soft as they grazed the sensitive skin of my neck. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my lips, and see the dark, enlarged pupils of his eyes.

"Alex…." He muttered, almost to himself, and my heart somersaulted in my chest at the word. Not Cadet, not Miss Birchwood.

 _Alex._

I leaned slightly forwards, the scent of his aftershave, pine and smoke, heavy in my nostrils. His hand was still by the side of my face, still cupping my chin, and the heat from his fingers melted into me, making my knees go weak.

All of a sudden, his eyes darkened, and he took a step back, snatching his hand down with an almost angry force. He was breathing heavily, as was I, and despite nothing happening, I couldn't help but feel like everything had changed.

He placed his hands behind his back in a formal manner, and gave me a respectful nod.

"Have a good Christmas, Cadet. Dismissed."

 _Dismissed?_ He was going to dismiss me after _that?_ I could hardly believe it, but forced myself to stand at attention, give a nod of acceptance, and say, "You too, Sir. See you in the New Year." before walking out of the office and hearing the door shut firmly behind me.

I leant against the door, trying desperately to get my breath back, but to no avail. What the hell had just happened?

I couldn't pass that off as nothing, and as I walked down the empty hallways, littered with Christmas decorations in comparison to the sparse emptiness of the room that I had just been in, I wasn't sure that I wanted to.

* * *

THERE WE GO I HOPE YOU ENJOYED (she's off to England now, leaving Spock to contemplate his life choices)

Please review (even if you want to shout at me because Spock is being an absolute wanker) I'll appreciate it x Also if you have any questions about the story, please PM me and I'll try my best to answer them, even if it's just 'HURRY THIS ROMANCE THE HELL UP' (I'm sorry I'm always a sucker for slow-burn)


	15. Christmas Time (Mistletoe and Wine)

Thank you, thank you, for every single person who reviewed. Vulcan kisses to all of you. This is a bit of a filler Chapter, and deals with Alex's return to England :) Hope you enjoy x

(also to anyone confused about the sizes, I am using British sizes, I think a 12 is equivalent to an 8 in American sizes)

* * *

I exited the plane at 8:00 GMT to sheet rain. It figured, my first day back in England and it was already pissing it down. After half a bagel and a slightly disappointing lasagne on the flight, I was ready for a cup of coffee and a muffin, so almost ran through baggage claims in an attempt to get out of Heathrow Airport. Much to my surprise, my brother was waiting for me as I exited, with a large sign that had ' _ALEX BIRCHWOOD GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE'_ scribbled on it in black sharpie, it was nice to be back.

"LUKE!" I yelled, and his head whipped around and broke into a large grin when he saw me struggling under the weight of my bags and suitcases. I concealed a grimace when he ran over and gave me a choking hug, squeezing the air out of my lungs. He was two years younger than me, at twenty one, and shared my thick black hair and blue eyes, but already towered over me at nearly 6"2.

"Stop growing." I mumbled, my face pressed into his chest, and he laughed, and grabbed my shoulders, holding me at arm's length.

"How's my favourite doctor?" He asked me, his London accent very noticeable after my four months in America. I grumbled, and handed him my suitcase.

"Bloody tired…" I muttered, and he smirked at me.

We walked to his car, a small blue number, and he placed my suitcases and bags in the boot. I sat in the passenger seat, originally getting in the wrong side, still used to American cars. He chuckled at that, and turned the radio on, strapping himself in and setting off from the airport.

"How are the studies going?" He asked over the monotonous droning of BBC Radio 1.

"Not too bad," I answered back, honestly, "Dissections and lectures are going well. I have a _great_ dissection teacher."

"Good, good."

His face lit up in excitement.

"Wait! You found out your elective didn't you? Did you get biochem?"

Luke knew about how much I wanted the Biochemistry elective at the beginning of this year.

"Nope. Maths."

He groaned in sympathy.

"Who's that with?"

"A Vulcan."

He laughed to himself, and I smiled in response, trying hard to conceal the blush that was slowly making its way up my pale face at the memory of my last meeting with Professor Spock. His face had been inches from mine, but neither of us had been willing to take the final move forwards. My heart thumped as I remembered, and I coughed, embarrassed.

"Bet you and him have had a few fights…"

"What?" I asked.

"The Vulcan. I'm sure someone as unorganised as you is basically Vulcan Kryptonite."

I smirked at that. If only he knew how right he was. During my first week, the Professor and I had certainly got into a few squabbles.

We reached home at 9:00am, and I was instantly smothered by a bear hug from my mother, all frizzy hair and flour on her apron, and then passed to my father who clapped me on the back and let out a gruff, "Welcome home, Alex, we missed you."

I was bundled into the kitchen and fed copious amounts of toast and tea, before finally being allowed up to my room to unpack my bags.

* * *

I quickly got back into the swing of things, even going out into London town a few times to catch up with friends that I hadn't seen since Summer. The day before Christmas, four of us met up in Costa to grab a coffee and share some gossip. Lillian, my best friend of six years, who was back at home from Nottingham University, started the conversation off with a bang.

"Alex, please please _please_ tell me that there's a guy." She stirred her vanilla cappuccino with a wooden stirrer, her blonde pixie-cut falling over her eyes as she glared at me intensely, "I mean, it's been what, _four years_ since Jeremy?"

This was accompanied by murmured agreement from the rest of the girls. Jeremy, my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with after I caught him sleeping with not one, but two girls at the same time, had been my last proper relationship. He was a tall, broad shouldered blond from North Carolina, and I had vowed to stay away from American boys since.

' _But Spock isn't American…. He isn't even human…'_ the thought ran through my mind before I could stop it.

Susan, who had recently begun an apprenticeship as a beauty therapist, raised one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow, and smiled at me with bright green lips, a single dimple appearing on the left hand side of her coffee-coloured face.

"She's blushing…" she said, pointing at my face, which had turned an impressive shade of beetroot. Charlotte giggled as she took a large bite of her jam and cream scone.

"So… come on, Alex spill the beans…"

"And please bring home some of his American friends at Easter," Susan interjected, wiggling her eyebrows seductively.

"One for each of us, preferably," smiled Charlotte, tucking a strand of her dark blonde hair behind a pierced ear.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, but they were all looking at me expectantly, so on a whim, I decided to tell them the truth.

"There is this one guy…" I muttered, raising my teacup to my mouth and taking a small sip. My answer was received by whoops and cheers, and one wolf-whistle, which I was pretty sure was from Susan.

"Is he hot?"

"Is he in your class?"

"What's his name?"

"How old is he?"

"Does he have a brother you could introduce me to?"

The barrage of questions took me by surprise, and I stayed stock still for a while, my mouth open, unaware of how to answer them.

"Well don't just sit there like a goldfish," Lillian urged, her painted red lips rising in a smile at the surprised expression on my face, " _Spill the beans!"_

"He's…" I begun, looking at their expectant faces, waiting for the shitstorm that was certain to follow my admission, "He's a teacher."

One squeal, one crash as a teacup was slammed down onto the wooden desk and one exclamation of 'Holy fucking shit' was their reaction. Each of them had a smile wider than their face, and I could just tell that they were absolutely _loving_ the turn that this conversation had taken.

"Is it McCormack? That hot biochemistry teacher that you keep talking about?" Charlotte asked me, and I saw the faces of the other two light up in recognition.

"Ooh yeah, the Irish one?"

I shook my head, and wrung my hands together.

"He's… not human."

Susan literally spat a mouthful of coffee out onto the table at my admission, getting a dirty look from a waiter.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll clean it up," she muttered, placing paper towels over the wet patch, before turning to me, eyes wide.

"You're banging an extra-terrestrial?"

"We're not banging." I defended myself, "We're not even _together_ , there's just… something there…"

"Something?"

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, not sure how to explain the moment that had happened between myself and the Professor, the way that his smell had rushed through my head, his face had been so close to mine that I had felt his breath on my lips, his hand had rested on the side of my face, and the look in his eyes had made me certain that he had never touched anybody the way that he was touching me.

"Well, he's a Vulcan, so they don't really _do_ emotions-"

"A _Vulcan?!"_ The shocked scream came from all three girls as they tried to comprehend my words, and I smirked at their reaction, taking another sip of my tea.

"A Vulcan." I replied.

"You dark horse, Alex. I didn't know you had it in you." That was Lillian, placing her empty cappuccino cup back down on the glossy wooden table, "If you've got a Vulcan to fall madly in love with you, then you're obviously irresistible."

A muted giggle came from the other two girls and I rolled my eyes.

"He's not _madly in love with me_ ," I smirked, "He just… touched my face." I blanched at how pathetic my excuse was, but the girl's eyes all widened in shock.

"That's basically frenching in Vulcan culture, Alex." This quip came from Charlotte, who had just finished a course on Interplanetary relations at Exeter University. She obviously knew what she was talking about. A dull vibration came from the pocket of my jeans, and I rolled my eyes as I saw who had texted me.

"Guys, I have go, my mum wants me to help her wrap Christmas presents."

A collective groan came from the group as I fished into my pocket and placed a five pound note on the table, and hugged each person.

"Like mother like daughter, last minute for everything…" Smiled Lillian, rolling her eyes.

"Excuse me, but which one of us will be going to space next year?" I asked, and they all rolled their eyes at me, used to my bragging. When I had been accepted into Starfleet, they had heard nothing but bragging for a good two months.

"See you next holiday," I said, donning my coat and picking up my bag, "And happy Christmas."

"Good luck with pointy," I heard called out behind me, and I stifled a smile as I walked out into the chilly December air.

* * *

At five O'Clock on Christmas morning I was woken by 12 stone worth of gangly little brother jumping directly onto my back.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE JAKE GET OFF ME!" I yelled, my voice muffled by the pillow that my face was pressed into.

"ALEX, NO SWEARING ON CHRISTMAS!" My dad's voice came from the other room, and I rolled my eyes back into my head and shoved Jake off me, getting up and wrapping myself in a fluffy pink dressing gown, Not my usual style, but at five O'Clock in the morning, I didn't care.

"Santa's been." Jake jumped up and down excitedly, and I smirked at him.

"You're twenty one, Jake."

He punched me in the arm.

"Where's your Christmas spirit, come on!"

I was unceremoniously dragged downstairs to our living room, where Santa had indeed been, as the tree was brimming with presents. I received a brand new copy of Grey's Anatomy: Interplanetary Edition, a new pair of black leather boots and a silver pendant from my parents, with a small dove hanging from it. All in all, a good Christmas haul. As always, my grandparents, cousins and distant relatives came to our small house for Christmas, and by 12:00, it was packed, wrapping paper littering the floor and the sound of chattering nearly overtaking my mother's 'All time Christmas Hits' playlist.

"So how's university going?" My grandma asked me, once I managed to detangle my leg from Jackson, my three year old cousin. I smiled and took a sip from my glass of champagne.

"Brilliant, actualy. I'm really enjoying the course, It's very interesting."

"And you'll be off into the unknown next year?"

"I sure hope so," I grinned, "If I pass my exams, that is."

She patted me reassuringly on the shoulder and gave me a warm smile, her horn-rimmed glasses sliding down her face.

"Sweetie, I'm sure you will. You're a clever girl!" then she stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, "You better, I told Janice at bingo that my granddaughter was an astronaut, and I'd hate to see her smug face if I was wrong."

I snorted into my glass and she grinned at me, winking, before being pulled off by one of my aunts to help with the turkey stuffing. I sighed and sat down on a large couch, immediately being sat on by a younger cousin. Jemma… Jemima? I couldn't remember, she was gone in a second, and her company was replaced by a pretty tall blonde girl who sat beside me, a glass of champagne in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other. My face broke out in a grin.

"Jess!" Jake's girlfriend was one of the friendliest people I knew, and after having gone out with him for the last three years, had now been integrated into the family. She was one of us, despite her light oloured hair and brown eyes, the exact opposite of the whole family.

She wrapped me in a tight hug, much stronger than her lithe frame would lead me to expect. Her platinum hair was tighed up in a tight, neat ponytail, and a pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of her thin nose. She had put on a dress for the occasion, black with silver swirling patters.

"You look good, Jess." I admitted, and she scoffed.

"Not as good as you! Have you lost weight?"

I was secretly chuffed that she had noticed, as over the last two months I had lost almost half a stone, dropping from a size fourteen to a size twelve.

"Well yes I have indeed, thank you very much!" I replied, standing up and twirling, my low-cut blue dress splaying out as I spun. She applauded, laughing, and I sat back down, a grin etched on my face.

"I got you something." She handed me the small box, and I smiled at her.

"Thanks Jess, wait I have something for you as well…" I looked over to the opposite side of the crowded room and spotted Jake, deep in conversation with my grandad… probably about fishing, it was all he liked to talk about.

"Jake," I yelled, and he glanced over at me, "Chuck us that silver present would you?" I gestured to the small silver box balanced precariously on a full bookshelf in the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes dramatically, but picked it up and threw it across the room to me. I caught it easily an handed it to Jess, who was concealing a chuckle.

We swapped gifts, and she opened mine first. A glamorous set of silver earrings, studded with diamantee crystals. She squealed when she opened the box and nearly squeezed the breath out of my lungs with another tight hug.

"Ohmygod Alex thank you! I love them!" She held them up to her ears, and I nodded in approval at how they looked.

"Very nice."

"Go on, open mine." she gestured to the box in my hands.

I smiled and tore at the neatly-wrapped present to reveal an unmarked plastic box.

"Um… thanks?" I said, turning it over in my hands.

She laughed at that, a full-belly laugh, and clapped me on the shoulder.

"No… your present is _inside_ the box, stupid."

I blushed, but smiled, and opened the box to find a beautiful elegant wristwatch, the straps and face black, but the hands golden.

"Holy shit, Jess. It's gorgeous. You know this is the _second_ timepiece that I have been bought this Christmas." I remembered Spock's alarm clock, and grinned to myself, "I reckon people are trying to tell me something…"

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and sighed, leaning her head on me.

"That's what sisters are for."

I removed myself from her clutches and looked at her with a confused look on my face.

"Wait…"

She extended her left arm, more specifically, her left hand, a very distinct silver ring, with a diamond rose in the centre, glistening in the lights of the Christmas tree.

"Holy CRAP!" I yelled, getting a disapproving look from my grandmother, "HOLY HELL!"

"JAKE!" I yelled over to him, and he looked at me, a glint in his eye. I stood up, and Jess stood up with me, and I wrapped my arms around her slim shoulders and gave her a bear hug, my heart pounding. My baby brother was getting married? I could hardly believe it!

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and spun around to see Jake, a shit-eating grin on his face, holding up his left hand. On his fourth finger was a slightly more understated silver band. My eyes widened and I crushed my face into his chest, squeezing the life out of him.

"Do mum and dad know?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes.

"Of _course_ mum and dad know, you lemon."

I squealed and clapped my hands in joy, before turning back around to Jess, who was almost bent double in laughter.

"If I'd have known that you'd have reacted like this, Alex, I would have filmed it."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked accusingly, my eyes narrowing at Jacke in mock-annoyance.

"I wanted Jess to be here before you found out," He said, shrugging his shoulders. It made sense, I guessed.

"This calls for a toast." I said, before yelling at the top of my lungs, "EVERYBODY LISTEN!"

The chatter in the room died down to a low murmur, and my relatives all looked at me, surprised. I stood up on the couch and held my glass in the air, my feet sinking down in the spring s a little bit and causing me to wobble.

"My little brother Jake-"

"What's going on, what's this racket?" Mum came in from the kitchen, a pink apron with 'Kiss the cook' written on it covering her chest.

"Shh." I said, and she rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, listening to me.

"My little brother Jake," I continued, uninterrupted, "Is getting married." A few cheers and whoops, "To this beautiful girl," I gestured to Jess, who was struggling to hold in a laugh at my melodramatic speech, "And I wish them all the joy and happiness in the world!" A round of applause went up, as everybody clinked their glasses, and patted Jake and Jess on the backs. My mum rolled her eyes at me and went back into the kitchen, giving Jess a peck on the cheek as she went. I hopped down from the sofa, getting a group-squeeze from the to-be-weds.

"Wait, I have an idea," I said, taking my phone out of my pocket and switching the front camera on, "Get in this photo."

I angled the camera to include all three of us, as well as the multitude of people in the background, young and old, some wearing paper party hats that they had got out of crackers, everybody smiling and laughing. I raised my glass and put on a beaming smile, taking the picture.

"That's a cute one," Said Jess, looking at the screen, tilting it towards her face to improve the lighting, "You look good in it."

"I look good in everything," I quipped back sarcastically, and Jake chucked and ruffled my hair jokingly.

I opened up my email, and typed out a quick message, 'W _ish you were here, lots of love from the_ _Birchwoods_ ', attaching the photo to it, before sending it to my most recent contacts. T'yonga, Jim, Jackie and Pierre. I smiled to myself, already excited for the photos that they would send back of their respective Christmases.

I made my excuses from the conversations and walked into the quiet of the kitchen, sitting on a stool and smiling to myself as I reread over the email, and took a glance at the photo that I attached with it. My smile was so wide that it stretched the whole way across my face, showing my teeth, which, though straight, were slightly too big for my mouth. Jess was right, though, It was a good picture of me. The lighting in the room made my pale skin almost look like it was glowing, and my icy blue eyes, lined thickly with black khol, shone from my face.

All in all, a pretty good photo.

I froze.

Oh no, please no. I had a terrible feeling that I had made an awful mistake.

I checked my sent mail, and my blood turned to ice. My friends had been in my recent contacts list, but so had a certain teacher that I most _definitely_ did not mean to send my holiday snaps to. I opened up the email, hoping that I was mistaken, but no.

' _Sent to: Professor Spock, 2:00am GMT'_

"Shit."

* * *

Ahha I'm so horrible to my characters why why why delilah? Hope you enjoyed this and please review x I know it's not my best Chapter, but Spock will return in the next one (and we will see his reaction to the surprising email he was sent!)


	16. A Vulcan Christmas

This chapter goes out to Ruth, who hit me up with a large amount of Star Trek knowledge so I could make this Chapter more realistic for you guys. (and also coming up with the ideas of what spock should get for Christmas off his mother. Hope it makes you guys laugh)

ONWARDS AND UPWARDS

* * *

Spock didn't understand Christmas.

He didn't understand the concept of celebrating the birth of a man who may or may not have existed over 3000 years before he was born, he didn't understand the concept of spending one day of the year giving gifts to people, and he _definitely_ didn't understand the necessity of having a 6" fir tree standing in the corner of his living room, covered completely in flashing lights. His mother, unsurprisingly, had bought the tree as soon as she arrived on Earth, and with the begrudging help of his father, had carried it to Spock's apartment, and spent a good three hours decorating it. Despite the fact that his carpet would be covered in fallen fir spines for the foreseeable future, he couldn't help but be pleased that his family was here.

His father, Sarek, unsurprisingly, had greeted him with a curt nod of his head, and a grumbled "Peace and long life,". His mother on the other hand had enveloped him in a hug that had almost taken his breath away, and immediately showered him with bags and carefully-wrapped gifts, which he had, in accordance with tradition, placed under the monstrous tree.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Spock awoke, as usual, at 0500 hours. He pulled himself off his couch, he had given his bed to his parents, and groggily stumbled to the restroom, where he had a shower that lasted exactly five minutes. He began his day with a scheduled hour of meditation, before entering his small kitchen and pouring himself out a bowl of bran flakes, picking a small metal spoon out of a drawer and eating them dry. He glanced across the darkened room to the unwanted fir tree in the corner, the fairy lights twinkling and reflecting off the large silver baubles which his mother had excitedly hung up. A small half-smile played at the corner of his mouth. His mother, Amanda, was a human, and did as humans do. She smiled, laughed, joked, and even cried. During Spock's upbringing, he had abhorred the qualities, as they had singled him out as a laughing stock amongst his peers, but over the years he, as his father, had come to accept them. They had become quirks that he almost missed when he wasn't around her.

In some way, though, recently, that hole had been filled. Cadet Birchwood, ever-problematic, had become almost a friend to Spock in the past few months. She had spent more time alone with him than anybody, and he had even begun to find himself making jokes and sharing humour around her, something which he would never have imagined himself doing in a million years six months ago.

He remembered the first time that he had seen her smile. Not at a friend, or in passing, but the first time that she had _genuinely_ smiled at him. It had taken his breath away, the way that her whole face lit up, her eyes crinkling at the sides. He smiled to himself as he recalled the way that her teeth had seemed ever-so-slightly too big for her mouth, making her beam seem even more radiant. From that moment onwards, he had vowed to make her smile as much as he could, as often as he could.

He was ashamed to admit that it had become almost like a drug for him.

She had smiled when she had opened his Christmas present, a small alarm clock wrapped in novelty wrapping paper.

He had known that she would.

That was why he got it for her.

A small but distinct blush crept up his cheeks as he recalled what had happened only an hour after that, when she had been leaving his office, but had stopped directly in front of him, her blue eyes steeled in resolve. She wouldn't move, and neither would he.

He had been a fool, placing his hand on her face in such an intimate way, but the _feel_ of her soft skin beneath his sensitive fingertips had almost caused him to lose control. In that one moment, he had wanted nothing more than to push her up against the door and do something that _definitely_ didn't meet Starfleet protocol.

At that thought, his face really _did_ flush green, and he placed his empty bowl in the sink with trembling fingers. It looked like he would have to lengthen his meditation session to two hours today.

* * *

His mother and father entered the kitchen area at nine O'clock, by which time, Spock had completed his extra hour of meditation, and was sat on the couch with his feet propped up on a coffee table, nose stuck in 'Othello'.

"Happy Christmas, honey!" His mother called out, plonking herself down next to him on the cough.

He concealed an irritated sigh and placed his book down, marking his place with a folded bus ticket that he used as a bookmark.

"And to you, mother." He replied, standing up and walking over to the tree. He pulled a large rectangular gift, wrapped neatly in silver and bronze striped paper, from under it, and handed it to his mother.

"It is a joint present for you and father, I'm afraid," he admitted, "I'm running quite low on funds at the moment."

His mother shook of his concern with an elegant wave of her hand, "Don't worry about it, sweetie. It's the thought that counts."

Spock's father made a small grumbling sound that was just loud enough to be heard, and pulled up a wooden chair, sitting down in it with a barely concealed sigh. It wasn't a new thing for Spock to feel like he was disappointing his father. His decision to work at Starfleet rather than at the Vulcan Science Academy had been one which had brought shame on his family, but he didn't regret it. If he had stayed on Vulcan, he would have had to undertake Kolinahr, a ritual which would purge him of emotions, and despite his Vulcan upbringing, his human half would have made that process very difficult.

That, and the fact that if he had stayed on Vulcan, he never would have met a certain spunky Medical Student.

"Yours are down there, sweetie."

He pushed Alex from his mind, and bent down to pick up the two small presents that his mother had bought him. One was soft, and yielded to the pressure of his fingers, but the other was square, hard and ridged. He sat down beside his mother and tore open the paper of the first one, revealing a knitted woollen blue and green scarf.

"I made it for you, dear. Earth is so much colder than Vulcan, so I thought you might get chilly."

He nodded at her in thanks, placing the scarf on the coffee table. It was a thoughtful present, and one that he was sure he would get a lot of use out of. His mother was right, Vulcans ran warmer than humans, and he often found himself cold.

He then took the other one, the hard square one, and unwrapped it from its paper carefully. When he saw what was inside it, he could barely conceal an audible groan.

Amanda, on the other hand, immediately burst into a fit of laughter.

The photo frame was gaudy, decorated with clay models of Disney characters that Spock had forgotten the names of, and so much glitter that it was already sticking to his hands and trouser legs, but it was the photo inside the frame which was causing Amanda's reaction. It was a day that his mother would never let him forget, no matter how much he wanted to. He remembered with all too much clarity the way that the beating sun had caused the sickly-sweet scent of pink candyfloss to hang in the air like smoke. 'Disneyland Florida', his mother had told them, so excited that she had bought a bright red pair of mouse-ears from the first vendor that she had seen, not caring that they clashed horribly with the earthy brown hair covering that she was wearing. She stood in the middle of the photo, beaming so widely that her face looked near splitting. Sarek, after having outright refused to wear anything resembling mouse ears, had been unceremoniously forced into a shirt with a portrait of a large dog, 'Goofy', if Spock's memory served him correctly. His father had no trace of a smile on his face, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, and the glare in his eyes making Spock wonder if he was purposely trying to burst the large pink balloon that Spock had been forced to hold. It was a strange photo, two Vulcans and a human stood in front of one of the most extravagantly gaudy castles Spock had ever seen, but it was one that, he supposed, he could see the funny side of.

His mother planted a kiss on his cheek, before opening her own, neatly wrapped present. Spock took the photo frame and placed it up on the mantelpiece, next to ann ornament.

"Oooh, silverware. Lovely. Thank you, Spock." His mother said, admiring the new set that he had bought her.

"That's a nice snow-globe." She continued, looking away from her present to the ornament which Spock had placed his photo next to, "Where did you get it from?"

The small red London Bus in the centre of the snow-globe seemed to mock Spock as he struggled to find an answer to that question. Vulcans did not lie, and he had no option but to tell her the truth.

"A student got it for me."

Amanda's eyebrow raised in surprise.

"A student? They must like you? What do you teach them?"

Spock sighed and sat back down on the couch. No matter what he did, his mind always ended up returning to that goddamn British girl.

"She's a fifth year medic. I teach her elective math."

Amanda's eyebrows raised even higher at that, and even Sarek looked up in surprise.

"A fifth year? So what does that make her? Twenty two?"

"Twenty three." Corrected Spock, "What does it matter, mother?"

"No reason, no reason…" mused Amanda, smiling to herself conspiratorially. She stood up from the couch, and walked over to the kitchen, pulling various plastic boxes out of the small fridge.

"Sarek, could you give me a hand with making the dinner?" She called out, and Sarek stood up and walked over, leaving Spock alone in the living room. He sighed to himself and sat back down on the couch, picking up his PADD and flicking through it, just for something to do.

The small flashing envelope in the corner of the screen caught his attention, and he clicked on it. Two new emails. He concealed a grimace, they were probably from Pike, asking him to set a new exam or mark another set of papers.

He clicked on his email, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Two emails from Cadet Alex Birchwood, certainly not what he had expected on Christmas day. He struggled to contain the slight increase in his heartrate at the realisation.

He opened the most recent one, sent at ten past seven that morning, about two O'clock in English time.

It was short and to the point.

 _Sir,_

 _I wish to apologise for my last email, which was incredibly inappropriate. I intended to send the email to my close friends, but by mistake also sent it to you. Please accept my apology._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Alex Birchwood._

One pointed eyebrow quirked upwards slightly in confusion. What could she have possibly sent him that clarified as inappropriate? A few things sprung to his over-excited mind, and he flushed at the thought. He was positive that Cadet Birchwood hadn't sent him _that_ type of email.

His curiosity piqued, he clicked on the other email, sent at seven O'clock, only ten minutes before the first one.

 _Wish you were here, lots of love from the Birchwoods._

He rolled his eyes and almost chuckled to himself, his heartrate returning to normal. It was simply a holiday greeting. A strange Earth custom, but certainly not one that required her to be _that_ embarrassed about. Yes, the phrase 'lots of love' may have caused a small jolt in his chest, but, he convinced himself that it was only out of disgust for such a mushy and emotional greeting. He was about to close the email when he saw the red flashing camera symbol in the left hand corner. She had sent the email with a picture attachment. The corner of his lip twitched, she had probably, knowing her, sent him some sort of novelty picture of a cat in a Santa hat, or possibly a snowman. He clicked on the image and waited for it to load.

Then promptly stopped breathing.

Alex was central in the picture, holding a half-full glass of champagne in one hand, and the camera in the other. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves, framing her pale face.

He had never seen her hair down before.

On her left was a slim bespectacled girl, her long blonde hair tied up, and on her right was a tall man, taller than Spock by a few inches. He had the same black hair and blue eyes as Alex, and Spock deduced that he was her 'arsehole brother', as she had so gracefully called him. Even with this knowledge, Spock felt an almost painful tug in the bottom of his stomach as he noticed that the boy had his arm draped casually around Alex's shoulder, a carefree grin on his face. Behind the three of them were countless others, all talking, all drinking, all laughing. Spock couldn't help but find it amusing that they _all_ had the same dark hair, the same blue eyes. She must have invited the whole family around. Spock thought about the difference between her Christmas and his, hers a wild chaos, his far more ordered. It wasn't any of this, however, that made his heart beat so fast he thought it was about to take flight. That was entirely the fault of her smile.

She was beaming, her red painted lips so wide that Spock could see every tooth in her mouth. Her piercing eyes shone with it, like there was a fire inside her that threatened to come out.

In Vulcan culture, smiling was abhorred. It was a sign of everything that Vulcans hated, a sign of a lack of control. It was carnal, animalistic, so why did Spock's breath catch in his throat whenever he saw one on this blasted girl? Guilt crept up inside him as he analysed the photo, he was spying on a private moment, but somehow, he couldn't get himself to stop. He blamed his human genes, which he had tried to hide for so long. Humans had no problems with expressions of joy and laughter. Sometimes he envied them for it.

His eyes pored over every detail greedily. The dress that she was wearing and the way that it clung to her body like a second skin, the way in which her hair fell down around her shoulders like a waterfall. The way that, when she smiled, small wrinkles appeared at the corners of her icy eyes. He knew that humans found wrinkles unsightly, a sign of old age and despair, but as he looked at the crinkles of skin around Alex's eyes, he couldn't help but think that they were the most beautiful thing in the world.

He snapped the PADD shut, placing it down on the couch and breathing heavily. He knew that it was wrong to be this affected by a student. He _knew_ that he should just delete the email and pretend that the event had never happened, but he couldn't. He couldn't get rid of the picture. She had been looking straight at the camera when she smiled, looking straight at _him_ , and it made his stomach churn in a way that he had never felt before. He ran his hand through his hair, and leaned back, waiting for his heart rate to return to its normal rhythm.

From inside the kitchen, he could hear the clattering of metal pots and pans as his mother and father cooked, and he listened intently, trying to take his mind off the photo which was now burned into his retinas.

"Is she pretty?"

The voice was his mothers, and it took him by surprise so much that he jumped when he heard it.

"What?" He replied, confused.

"That medic who bought you the snow globe," his mother clarified, "Is she pretty?"

He could hear the teasing smile in her voice, and could practically _see_ his father's disappointed glare at her. He thought back to the photo, and how her hair contrasted her face, the blue of her dress bringing out the blue of her eyes. He considered the way that her red lips had stretched back in front of a set of straight white teeth that were ever so slightly too big for her mouth. He smiled to himself before answering his mother.

"Beautiful."

* * *

Is that a chorus of people yelling 'THANK GOD' at me? Well, _finally_ , Spock is beginning to get a hold of himself and admit his feelings. Hope that you enjoyed this and as always PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT PLEASE PLEASE I CANNOT ASk THIS ENOUGH. reveiws are my drug. Thank you xx


	17. Thunderbolts and Lightning

Hello there once again. Firstly, to say a big thanks to everyone who reveiwed and faved, you guys rock.

As for this Chapter... well... let's just say that the wait may or may not be over...

dun

dun

dun

cliffhanger. (This Chapter brings my word count over 40,000 my longest story to date)

As always please please hit me up and tell me what you thought xx I'll shut up now and let you get on with the chapter.

Also, fun fact, this was the first Chapter I ever wrote of this fic, and i kind of changed it a bit to fit in with stuff that has happened in past Chapters, so without this Chapter, Alex wouldn't exist, and what a terrible world that would be ;)

To set the scene, Alex is back from Christmas holidays, and is about three weeks into the term (It's a Thursday) :)

* * *

"You have to hold the needle at about a forty degree angle…" muttered Dr. Leonard McCoy, as he pointed to a diagram of a lumbar puncture in a book resting on his lap.

I leant over to get a closer look, placing my mug of tea down on the table top and shifting up next to him. We were both in his apartment in the teacher's lodgings, sat close by each other on his brown leather couch. This was not an uncommon situation, as I often needed help with my studies, and Dr. McCoy was always available for out-of-hours teaching.

"But shove it in a bit further if it's a Klingon, right Doctor?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Klingons have tough skin, period. Give the needle an extra few centimetres. That should do it. And seriously, Birchwood, call me Bones. I'm off duty. Stop making me feel like a teacher in my own living room."

I had to smile at that. Despite being my teacher, Leonard was also one of my close friends. He'd bandaged me up more times than I cared to recall, and I could always rely on him when I got stuck on a subject. Starfleet medicine was infinitely more complicated than an ordinary medical degree. I not only had to learn all about the human body, but also about every other species under the sun. It wasn't unusual for me to send a quick email to Bones, asking if he could spare a few hours to go over a topic with me.

I had settled back into Starfleet well after returning from my Christmas holiday, and by my third week back, I was well and truly into the swing of things. I had partly expected Professor Spock to mention the email that I had accidentally sent him over the Christmas period, but our marking sessions had been as silent as usual. Although, it may have just been my imagination, but I could swear that I noticed him glancing up from his work to focus his attention on me from time to time.

I glanced at my watch as I took another sup of tea, the scalding liquid burning my throat on the way down.

Holy shit, it was half past one.

I'd been here for four hours!

"Ah crap…" I muttered, and he looked up, his blue eyes concerned.

"You alright there, Alex? Don't tell me you're going soft…"

He gestured to the graphic picture in the textbook, and I smirked and shook my head.

"Not at all, I'm basically numb to gore now, Bones. It's just it's getting late. I should probably head off. I have an early start tomorrow."

He smiled and nodded his head, closing the heavy book and placing it on the work surface next to the innumerable empty cups of tea.

"You need a lift home, Alex? It's getting pretty late…" he got up and looked uncertainly out of the large window in his room at the darkened streets below, "I'd hate for something to happen to you…"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll be fine," I reassured him, shrugging on my thick padded black jacket over my Starfleet uniform, "I've walked home from this building more times than I can count."

He seemed unhappy. "You're always welcome to sleep on my couch, you know… You could just stay here the night and get up early to go in tomorrow…"

I laughed, "I appreciate the offer, Bones, but I'm craving my own bed at the moment. Thanks, though. I might take you up on that sometime."

"If you're sure…" he muttered, and opened the door for me, placing the hefty textbook in my hands.

"Make sure you read over Chapter thirty seven," he said, "I'm not saying it'll be on the midterm test… but it's on the midterm test."

I let out a guffaw of laughter, and shook my head.

"I'm pretty sure that's cheating…" I said as I stepped out of the door into the empty corridor, and begun to walk off in the direction of the stairs.

"What can I say, you're my favourite student!" I heard him call after me, and I smiled.

The door shut with a bang, and I was left in silence. I got to the stairs pretty quickly, and ran down them two at a time, reaching the ground floor in no time. Placing the book on a nearby desk, I zipped up my jacket and donned the hood, it was raining heavily, then took the book up again, and walked out of the double doors.

The cold hit me almost immediately, and the rain buffeted my face, making me close my eyes. A loud flash illuminated the night, followed by a low rumble that shook the ground. A thunderstorm. Brilliant. Just what I needed.

I set off at a brisk pace, trying to avoid puddles, when I heard a farmiliar voice call my name from inside the apartment building.

"Alex, wait!"

I spun around, the rain flying off my hood at the sudden movement, and opened my mouth in shock to see Spock stood outside the double doors in the pouring rain, his hair soaking, and the water seeping into his blue shirt.

"WHAT?" I yelled back, struggling to be heard over the sound of the storm.

"GET INSIDE!" he shouted, pointing to the doors.

I hesitated.

"THAT'S AN ORDER, CADET!"

Welp. That settled it. I couldn't disobey a direct order. I jogged back through the door, which Spock was holding open for me, my textbook clutched close to my chest. Placing the textbook down on the stairs and removing my hood, which had done absolutely nothing to prevent my hair from getting soaking wet, I looked over at the tall Vulcan.

Commander Spock was stood up straight, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He looked very formal, apart from the droplets of water that were slowly dripping from his nose and fringe.

"I thought it was your voice that I heard, cadet."

'Cadet', nice. Still not on first name terms, despite working in close contact with the guy for almost three months.

"Mmm hmm…" I hummed in confirmation, hugging my arms to my chest and shivering. I was pretty sure I could feel a drop of rainwater running its way down my back.

"What were you doing in the teacher's accommodations so late at night?" he asked, his voice and face accusatory.

Were we going to do this _now_? _Seriously_? Couldn't he chew me out tomorrow once I had had a good night's sleep?

"I was visiting Dr. McCoy, sir. He was helping me with lumbar punctures. I mean, he was helping me understand them better, you know?"

"Rather late for an educational visit, isn't it?" he continued, a tinge of something unreadable in his voice.

Surely he wasn't suggesting that I…? Why that little…

"It's not uncommon for me to go around to Leonard's flat on occasion if I don't understand the course material, sir." I explained, surprised when he visibly stiffened at my use of Bones' first name, "He's an excellent teacher."

Spock nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"If you don't mind, sir…" I continued, ready to get going, "I should probably be going now. The later I set off, the later I get home. And the walk takes at least half an hour…"

His jaw twitched slightly.

"You're _walking_ home?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, my car broke down, you see…"

He sighed audibly.

"I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to walk home, cadet. It's far too late and far too dangerous."

"Are you _serious_?" I replied, not caring that I was being rude to a superior officer. I was tired and I wanted my bed.

"I'm always serious, Miss Birchwood. These are not suitable conditions for you to be walking home in."

As if in response, another flash of lightning filled the air, followed by the low unmistakeable rumble of thunder. I sighed deeply.

"Well then where am I going to sleep, _sir_? In the hallway?" I responded, a bit too sassily for safety.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow and sighed reluctantly.

"Well, it appears that you will have to sleep on my couch tonight, cadet. I can see no other possibility, as I'm certainly not going to allow you outside in this weather."

My face flushed beetroot. Sleeping at Leonard's was no trouble to me. I'd known him for the last five years, and was totally comfortable around him, but this was something new entirely. I could just imagine T'yonga's smug green face.

"Sir?" I asked, leaving the question open.

"Please cadet, call me Spock. I am, as it is, currently off duty." He said, turning around and heading to walk back up the stairs.

"Spock…" I muttered, unsure of what to say. This was all happening far too quickly for my liking.

I swore I saw him stiffen, a muscle in his broad back twitching, but it was gone almost instantly, and he continued to head up the stairs, making me wonder if I had seen anything at all. I reluctantly followed behind him, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

"Spock. This is unnecessary." I said, breathing slightly heavily at the exertion of basically having to run up two flights of stairs.

"On the other hand, Alex, I consider it completely necessary. As an educational professor, the safety of the students under my care is my most important objective."

Wow. Talk dirty to me.

"I assume that you will not mind sleeping on the couch?" he continued, oblivious to my internal monologue, "Or would you prefer to sleep in my bed?"

"The couch is fine." I stated simply, my face reddening at the accidental double entendre in his sentence, as we stopped outside room number 203.

Spock slipped the key card out of his pocket and scanned it on the door, which opened inwards. The main room was plain, as I had imagined, with a large red patent leather sofa, two wooden chairs and a wooden table. The kitchen area was spotless, and the floors shone with a cleanliness that I hadn't seen outside operating theatres. I stepped inside, and Spock closed the door behind me, locking it with a distinctive click. My heart beat faster, and I looked over at him in confusion.

"I prefer to lock the door at night, Miss. Birchwood. Merely for my own piece of mind. There have been a few robbings in the area."

Robbings. Okay. Instead of making me feel more secure, I just felt trapped.

"How did you know to come get me?" I asked, trying to break the silence with any type of noise.

"I heard your voice. It's very distinctive."

"No, but how did you know that I wouldn't have my car?" I continued, removing my sopping wet jacket and placing it on the coat stand next to the door.

"I didn't," he answered, "I just wanted to make sure that you were safe. You have a habit of ending up in trouble no matter where you go."

Alright,I guess that made sense. I assumed hr was talking about the incident before Christmas, where I had found myself subject to unwanted advances from a particularly persistent student.

My eyes wandered around the bland room, and settled on the only spot of colour, a bright pink photo frame on the mantlepiece. I smiled to myself as I noticed that next to it sat my snowglobe, the present that I had got him for Christmas.

"Disneyland, Sir?" I asked, a smile in my voice. He glanced over to the photograph and rolled his eyes.

"My mother's idea, I'm afraid."

I couldn't help but giggle to myself at the stoic expressions of him and what I assumed was his Vulcan father, in comparison to the beaming grin covering his human mother's face.

He walked towards his bedroom and I felt my face flush red when I realised what I was going to have to ask him. Rainwater dripped from my hair and clothes, leaving a small puddle on the floor. There was no way I could get to sleep like this.

"Uh... Spock?"

He turned around to face me, his wet hair sticking to his face and his blue shirt soaked through, clinging to his toned chest in a way that I tried not to think about. He raised his eyebrow.

"Yes Alex?"

The use of my first name took me by surprise, and I forgot momentarily what it was that I wanted to ask him. The steady drip drip drip of water from my soaked shirt reminded me.

"Um..." I started nervously, "I don't suppose I could borrow a shirt or something? It's just that I'm a bit..."

I gestured with my hands to my shirt, which was two shades darker than it should have been, soaked through with water.

"Wet..." I finished lamely.

He nodded in understanding, and went back into his room, leaving me standing alone in the room, the puddle by my feet getting larger by the second. When he returned, he was holding a piece of royal blue fabric that I soon recognised as a Regulation Starfleet Science shirt. He handed it to me silently, then left the room, going into his own bedroom.

I sighed and peeled my wet shirt off, shivering as I stood in the room in only a plain black bra, goose bumps already rising on my skin. I placed my shirt over a radiator, hoping that it would dry by tomorrow morning, and began to undo the belt on my black skinny jeans. I placed it over the back of the couch, and unbuttoned the first button on my trousers.

A low cough came from behind me and I spun around, hands still on the fastening of my jeans. Spock stood in the doorway, a pillow and a fluffy blanket clutched tightly in his hands, his face greener than I had ever seen it. My heart gave a somersault, and I tried in vain to cover the bare skin on my chest with my arms, but to no avail.

He coughed again, before proffering out the items, refusing to look me in the eyes. I sighed inwardly, like our relationship could be any _more_ awkward, and walked forwards, taking the bedding from his outstretched hands. As I grabbed them, my finger slightly brushed the tip of his, and it was like a switch had gone off.

He took a sharp intake of breath, a low sound at the back of his throat, and before I could understand what was happening, the blanket was on the floor and his lips were on mine. I was so surprised that I took a step backwards, and he moved with me, one of his hands placed on the bare skin at the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, and one wrapped tightly in my wet hair, pulling the back of my head down slightly to better angle my face to his mouth. His chest was warm, pressed against mine, and I could feel the erratic thumping of his heartbeat in time with my own. Ever so slowly, his tongue eased it's way into my mouth, and I let out a soft gasp. At the sound, he pulled my hair tighter and pushed me back further, until my back was pressed up against the cold hard wall of his apartment. He pressed his body further into mine, trying to meld us together, and I almost melted at the sensation. My knees buckled, and he spread his hands on my hips to keep me on place, rubbing the bare skin of my stomach with his thumb. A low groan came from the back of his throat, and the noise went straight to the pit of my stomach, fuelling the fire that was already burning there. His nose bumped mine as his lips moved, angrily, almost desperately, as if he wanted to consume me entirely. He moved his hands from my waist, and instead grabbed my wrists, his long fingers encircling them with ease as he pulled my arms above my head, leaving me entirely at his mercy. His lips moved from mine, and trailed kisses down to the base of my throat, where his mouth stayed, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh. I let out a low moan, and I felt his lips move into a smile. He kept one hand grabbing both my wrists, but moved the other downwards, cupping my face. I felt a surge of heat rush to my cheeks as I realised what he was doing.

He was _marking_ me.

I leaned my head back, a low moan coming from the base of my throat, and all of a sudden, he pushed back from me, leaving my arms to flop limply at sides.

"Fuck..." a low mutter came from him, and I was shocked at the language. I'd never heard a Vulcan swear before. My breath was coming fast and heavy, and as I looked up at him, I noticed that he was no less worse for wear. His lips were swollen slightly, tinged green, and his hair, always so immaculate, was sticking up in all directions. I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the wall, taking a step towards him. As I did, he imperceptibly took a small step back, the pupils of his eyes blown so wide that I could barely see the chocolate brown retinas.

"What are you doing to me?" his voice was choked and strained, and so quiet I couldn't be sure if I had heard anything at all.

"I..." my voice came out as a hoarse whisper, and before I could get out a proper sentence, he straightened and bent down to pick the discarded pillow and blankets off the floor, placing them on the couch next to me, being very careful not to look at me, stood in my jeans and black bra.

"Sleep well, Cadet. There will be an early start tomorrow."

I raised my eyebrows in shock at his statement, but as I opened my mouth to respond, he turned away from me and almost ran into his room, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang, leaving me stood alone.

I stayed still for a second, before removing my trousers and slipping his blue shirt over my head, sitting on the couch and placing my head in my hands. My heart slowly returned to its original rhythm, and I placed the pillow on the couch, lying down and pulling the blanket over my shoulders.

"Light off." I mumbled, and the automatic light turned off at my command, plunging me in darkness.

Everything had changed.

* * *

HOLY SHIT THERE WE GO

HOPE YOU LIKED IT (by which i mean, i hope that you are now silently squealing to yourself over what has happened. It's definitely going to be an awkward morning... Please review x


	18. A Typically Vulcan Response

Hello there avid readers :) Here we are again. Thank you to all for reviewing and following/favouriting you ROCK YOU'RE THE REAL MVPS.

Also, somebody told me that the song, 'Trying Not To Love You' by Nickleback fit this story, so have a listen :) x

Here we go, here we go, here we gooo... Hope that you all enjoy, and as always, if you liked it, please favourite and review (your reviews mean the world to me) x

RE-EDITED TO REMOVE THE SPELLING AND GRAMMAR MISTAKES

* * *

SPOCK POV

Spock awoke with an unexplainable feeling of anxiety in his gut. He glanced over at his clock and noted the time, 5:00, just like always. He yawned and rubbed his jaw, getting out of bed and groggily walking to the shower, his mind whirring with all the things he had planned for the day. A total of five classes to teach, mostly first years. At least it was Friday.

He stepped into the shower, and turned it on, revelling as the warm water woke him up properly, running in rivulets over his broad shoulders and down his back. He stayed in for slightly longer than his usual five minutes, before stepping out and towel-drying his hair, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking out into the kitchen.

"Lights on, twenty percent." He mumbled, as the lighting in the room switched on, dimly illuminating both the kitchen and its attached living area. Spock pulled out a bowl from a cupboard and filled it with cereal, sitting down on a stool by the kitchen table, unable to shake off the growing sense that something wasn't quite right. He dug his spoon into his dry cereal, when he was interrupted by a small, muffled groan.

He froze and his eyes darted to his couch, where an indiscernible lump was moving around. He swore to himself silently.

Of course, he had let Alex stay over.

How could he have forgotten?

Well, he couldn't have allowed her to walk home unsupervised in good conscience, could he?

He told himself that her safety was the only reason that he had asked her to sleep over, but he knew deep down that he was lying. There was a small part of him that had wanted something else entirely, and no matter how small it was, it had certainly reared its ugly head last night. He flushed green as he recalled the way that he had lost control of his emotions around her. The feeling of her hand on his had been the trigger, and months of tension had exploded out of him in a fury of teeth and tongues and bodies. He had wanted to feel the touch of her smooth skin under his sensitive fingers, and the need had been so great that he hadn't cared about the consequences. He was ashamed with himself. To even _think_ such carnal thoughts, let alone _act on them_ , was shameful to a Vulcan.

He had taken far too long to fall asleep last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued with visions that were _definitely_ not in the realms of a professional student-teacher relationship.

As his eyes focused to the light, he felt that familiar blush creep up his cheeks as he took in her sleeping form. She was spread-eagled on her back, her wild hair encircling her face and her arms flopping gracelessly off the couch. What he was focusing on, however, was the fact that the blanket he had lent her had been kicked off during the night. Her pale legs almost glowed in the dim light, and Spock felt his mouth go dry as his eyes wandered over the tops of her thighs. She was wearing plain black underwear, nothing special, but Spock couldn't stop himself from swallowing heavily at the sight. The blue shirt, _his_ shirt, had rode up to her navel, giving him a full view of her stomach, the soft curves of her waist and hips. He stood up and turned away, his hands on his hips breathing heavily.

He shouldn't be doing this. Not this morning. Not after what had happened last night.

"Whatttimesit?"

The muffled question came from the couch that he refused to look at. He didn't understand what she had said.

"What?"

"I said what time is it?"

He hid a smile at the irritation in her voice.

"Ten past five, Cadet."

The noise that came from her mouth couldn't be deciphered into words, and she flipped onto her front, picking the blanket up from the floor and pulling it over herself, cocooning herself under it.

Spock walked towards the couch, running his hand through his still wet hair.

"Get up, Cadet. You have to be ready in forty minutes. Then I'm leaving without you."

She mumbled a response that he couldn't quite hear, but he was sure contained one or two expletives, and pulled herself into a sitting position. She rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her hand, the too-big shirt slipping off one of her shoulders and revealing a plain black bra strap.

For some reason unknown to him, Spock _loved_ seeing her in his clothes. Seeing a part of him on a part of her. It gave him a satisfaction that he couldn't explain.

She glanced up at him, and raised her eyebrows when she took in his state of undress. He had almost forgotten that he was wearing nothing but a plain white towel, the droplets of water from his earlier shower still running down his toned chest. He coughed, and nodded at her, as respectfully as he could whilst burning bright green, before turning on his heel and walking into his bedroom, closing the door with a loud slam.

By the time that he was dressed, Alex was already up, thankfully a lot more presentable in her black jeans and crumpled Starfleet shirt, which had dried overnight. Her hair, however, was a different story. It spiralled out from her face in all directions. When Spock left his bedroom, giving a knock from the door to make sure that she was decent, he wasn't going to make _that_ mistake again, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, wrestling to fit her hair into a tight plait down her left shoulder.

"I'll walk, Sir." She said as he walked in, tying the bottom of her plait with an elastic.

He raised his eyebrow in confusion, and sat down on a stool next to her, wondering what she meant.

"I am offering you a lift to Starfleet in my car, Cadet."

"Yeah, no, I know…" she muttered, looking almost embarrassed, "But, I mean, if we _both_ go in in the same car and I'm wearing last night's clothes…"

She picked at her crumpled collar, and Spock noticed with a jolt that she had a small purple bruise just above her left collarbone. His mark. His swallowed dryly, the memory of the mark still weighing heavily in his mind. The way that she had responded to his touch, the goddamn _noises_ that she had made had nearly drove him over the edge.

"And people will think we… you know…" She tailed off, her face red.

Spock drew his eyes away from her neck and looked at her questioningly, not understanding what was wrong. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Slept together."

His eyebrows raised.

"Cadet, I hardly think that-"

"Are we going to both pretend that nothing happened last night?"

Her question knocked him off guard, and he sat in silence for a second for a second, unwilling to respond. Of course she would mention it. It was obviously too much to wish that they could both just forget the kiss and move on.

Although he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to forget it himself.

The way that she had responded to his touch had made him feel almost… _human._ He looked at his watch, and stood up quickly, almost knocking Alex's half-full mug of coffee off the table top in his hurry.

"We should get going." He avoided the question, leaving Alex sat on the counter, dumbfounded. This was a conversation that he wasn't prepared to have. Not now at least, anyway.

She sighed audibly and stood up, downing the remainder of her coffee and picking up her satchel, a faded brown leather case, swinging it over her shoulder. The look on her face told Spock that she was not happy at all with him, but he ignored the feeling of anxiety in his gut, grabbed his car keys from the bowl on the table, and set out of the house.

ALEX POV

The _silent treatment_? Was he _serious_? So last night, he kisses me like I didn't even know a person _could_ be kissed, and this morning, he can't even string a full sentence together in front of me? 'Furious' didn't even come close.

The car journey to University was silent, punctuated only by painful small-talk.

"Did you sleep well, Cadet?"

"Um hmm."

"And I see your clothes dried off well."

"Mm… yep."

By the time that we finally got to Starfleet, I wanted a hole to appear in the floor and suck me straight into it. The fact that the first person I saw once I stepped out of Spock's car was T'yonga, the shock on her face contorting her dainty features, did nothing to brighten my sour mood.

I slammed the door with slightly more force than necessary, and with a curt, "I'll see you in maths." I stormed off towards T'yonga.

"What the hell-"

"Keep walking. I'll tell you later." I grabbed her elbow and dragged her along with me, ignoring the eyes that I could feel burning into my back. When we were safely around a corner and out of sight, she shook my grasp off and basically pushed me up against the wall, her face inches from mine. The last time that I had been in this position, there had been a much different mood.

"What the hell are you doing?" T'yonga asked, letting go of me and taking a step back, rolling her eyes, "I stayed up until three O'clock, waiting for you to come home!"

Guilt flooded through me, I had forgotten to send T'yonga message telling her that I wouldn't be back. I could easily imagine her worry.

"I thought that you'd been attacked, thought that you were _dead!_ Holy shit, Alex."

"I'm sorry-" I began, "I lost track of time-". I knew that it was a bad excuse before I said it. I never fought with T'yonga, so the anger in her voice surprised me.

She ran a hand through her curly hair, rolling her eyes at me. I pushed myself off the wall, readjusting my satchel on my shoulder.

"-And then you come into College in yesterday's clothes, getting out of a Vulcan's car-"

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes moving from my face to my neck. A small but distinct grin crept up her face, and she snapped her eyes back up, her brown ones connecting with my blues.

"You did _not_."

I reached up to my neck in confusion, getting my phone out of my pocket and looking at my reflection. Sure enough, just beneath my collarbone was a distinctive purple bruise complete with what looked like… were those _tooth marks_?

"Shite." I muttered, feeling heat rise to my face.

"You did _not_ have sex with a Vulcan…" Her grin was as wide as her face.

I raised my hands in mock-surrender, "Noooo, no no no I didn't have _sex_ with him, T'yonga, I just…"

" _Just_ …?" She continued, prying for more information, all anger from before evaporated. That was one of the reasons I loved T'yonga. She never held a grudge.

"Just, kind of…" I struggled with how to say it, the way that I had felt like my whole body was on fire when he touched me. I didn't think that there was a word in the English language for feeling the imprints of someone's fingertips on your skin hours after they were there, but I was feeling it now.

She glanced at her watch and sighed.

"Shit, I have to run. I've got Advanced Engineering." She pointed a green finger in my face, "You better find me at lunch, Vulcan girl!" And with that, she spun around and headed off.

"Wait!" I called out after her, she turned her head to face me, still grinning, "Am I forgiven?"

She rolled her eyes, "You're forgiven once you give me the juicy details and not a second before." and with that she walked off into the crowd, disappearing in the throng of students. I sighed dramatically and checked my PADD, looking for my timetable.

Dissection. Just what I needed.

* * *

It was half twelve by the time that I finally walked into the Student Dining room, my hands smelling of dead bodies, and my thoughts still whirring with the Professor's obvious dismissal of me this morning. I had been so annoyed during dissection that I had had pretended the Klingon torso on my desk had been a hunk of Vulcan flesh. Which hunk, I wouldn't say.

Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't wait to talk to T'yonga. After everything that had happened, it would be good to finally speak to somebody about it, and who better than my best friend?

"Okay, so tell all." She had said once I had located her, on a small table in the corner of the room, far away enough from people that our conversation couldn't be overheard. I sighed and took a sip from my Styrofoam cup of tea.

"Alright, so I was at Leonard's going over the syllabus…" She nodded along as I spoke, well aware that I often went to Bones' flat if I didn't understand a topic, "And as I was leaving the building, he called me inside."

Her eyebrows raised at this, but I kept talking, "So he asked me to stay over at his, but then… well…"

"Well _what_?" She almost screamed at me, her brown eyes wide.

"He kinda walked in on me whilst I was changing…"

"Oh my God, Alex." Her hands had found her way to her mouth, and she was grinning from ear to ear, obviously loving my retelling of the story, "And then?"

I sighed and pointed to the bite mark on my neck, "And then this, 'yonga."

She whistled quietly, taking a longer look at the love-bite.

"That's hot. I didn't know Vulcans got down like that." She muttered, before taking a chip from the large plate in the centre of the table.

"Yeah, well evidently they don't do pillow-talk, either. He stormed off after it and hasn't mentioned it since."

"No. Fucking. Way." She almost gasped, loving the gossip. I was glad to finally be able to tell her about my feelings for the Professor. Hiding it for the last few months had been exhausting.

I had missed out on girl-talk, I realised, as I ranted to T'yonga. Sure, I definitely had a good social life, but sometimes, all I needed was a coffee and a talk about boys. Or Vulcans, to be more precise. We stayed like that for a while, chatting over hot cups of tea and coffee, the pile of chips in the centre of the table slowly dwindling as we talked.

We were eventually interrupted by Jim Kirk, who sidled up to us with a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a laptop on the other. He placed it in the centre of the table, opening it up and switching it on.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I, girls?" He asked, noticing how deep we were in conversation.

T'yonga glanced at me, I had been mid-rant, but I shook my head imperceptibly, and she nodded and waved Jim onto a seat.

"I fucking failed it again." He started with, and T'yonga responded with an, "Aww, babe."

I, on the other hand, looked at them both in confusion.

"Failed what?" I asked, as Jim rubbed his chin with his hand. It always struck me when I saw him how goddamn _attractive_ he was. Classically chiselled, with eyes the colour of the sky and dirty blonde hair that fell over his face in a casual disarray. T'yonga was a lucky girl.

"The Kobayashi Maru." T'yonga explained, and I nodded in understanding. He had tried to rig the test with T'yonga's help, but had evidently been unsuccessful. I wasn't surprised. The Koayashi Maru was infamously hard to pass.

"So that extra bit of coding didn't help?" I asked, glad that there was something to distract me from the anger that I felt towards Spock, I was determined to confront him about what had happened at the end of the day. Maths was my last lesson, so I would have to stay behind and discuss it with him.

Surely he couldn't just blank me again. Could he?

"Unfortunately not," Jim replied, smiling at T'yonga, "We nearly got it, but we needed a mathematician. Someone who understands the numbers not just the codes."

It made sense, I guessed. Spock had designed the test, and he was a mathematician. A code designed with maths at the heart of it was much different than one designed by an engineer. There was a graceful intricacy to maths that wasn't present in other subjects. I realised that Jim was looking at me strangely, a glint in his eye.

That was never a good sign.

"What?" I asked, noticing that the same expression covered T'yonga's face.

"Well, do you know any mathematicians, Alex?" She asked, a smile spreading across her face, "Mathematicians who know the Professor well enough to be able to read a code that he designed?"

I could see where this was going.

"No, no no. That isn't going to happen."

James pouted.

"I mean it, guys. I'm not about to compromise my chances of passing my degree just to help you prove a point."

T'yonga sighed and rested her arms on the table, "If you change your mind, Alex, let us know. We need all the help we can get."

"Of course I will, but don't hold your breath."

It would require me to be _very_ pissed off with the Professor to risk losing my place in Starfleet in order to spite him.

* * *

My final lesson of the day was maths. Through the entire lesson, unsurprisingly, the Professor blatantly refused to look at me. He taught us from the front of the room, and I could swear that he made eye contact with each member of the class apart from me. It was like he was going out of his way to ignore me. At four O'clock, he dismissed us, as usual with a curt, "Dismissed, class."

Everyone stood up and left the room, but I remained in my seat, my heart thumping in my chest as I waited for the remainder of the class to leave. Once the last person had walked out, I stood up, leaving my bag under my desk. The Professor was stood at the front of the room, his back to me.

"Sir." I said, and he stiffened and turned around to look at me, his face blank. I walked towards him, but before I reached him, he spoke.

"I apologise for last night, Cadet. It was inappropriate of me."

I rolled my eyes, what a typical Vulcan response. No emotion, no empathy.

"I…" I began, not sure what I wanted to say. I had a whole speech planned for this moment, but as soon as he had spoken, it had gone out of my mind, "I didn't mind it, Sir."

My heartrate increased as he raised his eyebrows, a faint tinge of green colouring his cheeks. I noticed his eyes dart towards my neck, and the bruise that still lay there, before looking away, almost embarrassed.

He shook his head imperceptibly, and walked towards his desk, sitting behind it, effectively putting a barrier between us.

"I do not think that you should continue helping me with my marking, Cadet."

His words surprised me, and I stood still with my mouth open in shock for a few seconds. He wanted me to stop working with him?

"I'm sorry?" I asked, not sure that I had heard him correctly.

The lower left half of his mouth twitched.

"I said that I do not think you should continue to mark papers with me on a Friday night, Cadet."

I was shocked, to say the least. I didn't know what I had expected, but it surely hadn't been that.

"May I ask why, Sir?" I enquired. It wasn't just the fact that I enjoyed his company, I _needed_ the extra credit that I got by helping him.

He looked at me uncomfortably, shuffling the papers on his desk, trying not to make eye contact.

"Our relationship needs to return to as it was, Cadet. Purely professional." He explained to me, finally putting the papers down and looking me in the eye. His gaze was emotionless, completely blank. It was a contrast to the last time that he had looked at me, last night in his flat, his pupils dilated so wide that I could barely see the brown of his irises.

"What?" I asked again, not understanding. Surely he had felt what I had felt last night?

He sighed, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

"It's not uncommon for students to develop infatuations with their teachers, Cadet."

" _What?"_

I was turning from shocked to furious. An _infatuation?_ That was what he thought this was?

"And I'm sure that you aren't the first student to have misplaced affections with somebody in a higher position of power."

" _Misplaced affections_?!" I replied, my voice reaching a pitch that I didn't even realise that it could, "May I remind you that _you_ are the one who kissed _me_?"

"And I apologise for that, Cadet, but it doesn't change the fact that we should stop this relationship before it gets out of control."

"Alex," I was almost shouting, "My name is Alex, Spock. At least call me by my own bloody name."

He stood up, pushing his chair against the floor, the loud sound echoing in the room. He walked in front of his desk, to where I was standing, and I involuntarily took a step back, reeling at the look in his eyes. They were blank, entirely emotionless.

"Cadet, I would like you to leave, now. I'll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend." It was as if a knife had been shoved in my chest. He had dismissed me, as if he would anybody. Like nothing had ever happened. I swallowed back a retort that contained some language that I definitely shouldn't use in front of a senior member of staff. I couldn't believe that he would kiss me like a human one day, and act entirely Vulcan the next. I was beyond angry. I was fuming. I grabbed my bag from under the chair and slung it over my shoulder, giving the Professor one last glare.

"Very well, Sir." My voice was strained and curt, and before he could say anything in return, I spun on my heels, leaving the classroom and closing the wooden door with slightly more force than necessary. I leaned on the closed door, breathing heavily, my mind whirring. How could he possibly think that this was just an infatuation? I was positive that he felt the same way about me, so why was he trying so hard to hide it? Was he embarrassed? Worried that it may affect his reputation, or even his job? On a whim, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, angrily typing in a number and putting it to my ear, listening to the dialling tone.

"Hello?" The unmistakeably cocky voice of Jim Kirk. I smiled to myself.

"Jim?"

"Alex?"

"The Kobayari Masu." I said simply.

"What about it?"

"I'm in."

* * *

*Prepares myself for the sticks that will be thrown at me*

PLEASE REVIEW

(Also, sorry about the constant change of setting. This chapter is a bit jigsawed, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless) X


	19. Disillusionment and Code Breaking

Alrighty-hoo. Thak you all for tuning in again (and thank you for the lack of stones thrown at me for the ending of the last chapter)

To warn you, the M rating comes into play a bit in this Chapter, so be warned. And I hope you enjoy bc writing M scenes is like my least favourite thingto do and i probably crapped it up. :)

Also, Nyota comes in in this chapter, along with Gailia, who was her roommate, which can only mean one thing... WE ARE OFFICIALLY IN FIRST MOVIE TERRITORY

WOO HOO

HERE WE FUKIN GO (FYI, this chapter is set roughly a week after the last one.) (Also thank you to the reveiwer who said she wanted to deck spock. i feel that. every single time i write him. hes going down.)

* * *

 **UHURA POV**

Nyota Uhura was not happy.

Not only did she have a Xenolinguistics Klingon Oral test in three weeks which she had not even _begun_ to study for, but her flat was now cramped full of two Orions, one overly cocky pilot and one English girl, who in her three hours there had already managed to drink six cups of tea. The four were crouched on the floor around a small laptop, each jostling against each other to get a better look at the screen. Gailia, Nyota's Orion roommate, had invited 'Jim Kirk' and his friends over to their shared flat, without her permission, and by the way that they were whispering and giggling to each other like overexcited schoolgirls, she guessed that they were doing something forbidden.

"He's a smart son of a bitch, I'll give him that," the British girl, Alexandra, muttered to herself, bent over a pad of A4 paper, scribbling furiously, "It's all encrypted. That's why you couldn't get to it, 'Yong."

T'Yonga, an Orion with a striking resemblance to Gailia, apart from a slightly thinner body and slightly longer shocking red hair, rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Are you telling me that all I did wrong was forget to _decrypt_ it? You have to be kidding me..." She slung her hand over her face dramatically, "That's the easiest bit..."

"The _EASIEST BIT?!"_ The brunette had yelled back, as T'yonga's face crept into a sly smile, "I've been working on this bloody encryption for hours and I've only just figured the base code. Don't tell me that _you_ could have integrated a whole polynomial equation by yourself!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Laughed T'yonga, sticking her hands up in the air in surrender, "I know it's the trickest bit of the lot, Alex, you're doing a great job so far."

Nyota sighed loudly from her seat on her bed, flicking through her lecture notes, trying to make anything go into her head. She loved languages, a gift that she supposed came from her mother, but _damn,_ Klingon could be difficult at times.

Alexandra looked up at her, blue eyes concerned.

"We're not disrupting you, are we?" She asked, her accent clear and precise, "We could move somewhere else if you wanted us to..."

Nyota smiled and shook her head. She was just being dramatic, and if she was honest with herself, she liked the company. She was so overloaded with work that she found it difficult to get out nowadays.

"Don't worry about it, Alexandra," she smiled, placing her notes down on the bed and hopping off it, walking over to where the four students were sprawled out on the floor, taking a peek at the computer screen. It was all numbers and letters, green code that meant absolutely nothing to her, "Although I can't say that I understand what you're doing..."

The girl smirked up at her, and gave her a beaming smile, "Alex, please." She said, shifting up on the white carpet to give Uhura space to sit down, "Only my mother calls me Alexandra, and only when I'm in trouble."

Nyota sat down gracefully on the floor, folding her slim legs underneath her. She had been surprised when Gailia had announced that she was having friends round, usually the only people that she brought round were boys, and usually when Nyota wasn't there. It was refreshing to see so many female faces in the flat, even if they were doing nothing but coding.

"You're a Xenolinguist, right?" Asked Alex, looking at Nyota, her legs crossed beneath her, her hair in a messy bun and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses hanging off the bridge of her nose.

Nyota nodded, "Uh huh, I have a Klingon Oral exam next month."

Alex winced in sympathy, and slid over to sit next to her, their knees touching. She proffered out her pad of paper, and Nyota glanced over it. It was nothing but a mass of squiggles and numbers, lines connecting them. She had no idea what any of it meant.

"Maths is a language." Alex said, taking her pen and pointing to a small group of numbers that she had squeezed into the corner of the page with her messy handwriting, "This is what we call the 'base code'. Takes a lifetime to figure out, but once you have it, you can crack the whole thing. It translates the seemingly random numbers in the rest of the code into something that actually makes sense."

She moved her pen from the base code to a mass of numbers and signals, with lines scribbled hastily on in all directions in black biro.

"It's kinda like a mathematic dictionary. It's pretty easy when you get going."

T'yonga scoffed, and Alex rolled her eyes and looked at her.

"Problem?" she assed sassily, a grin on her face.

"It's easy if you have a brain the size of a watermelon, Alex. The rest of us mortals are just hanging on by a thread."

Alex snorted in laughter, turned back to Nyota, pointing out the so-called 'markers' in the code, each one coding for a different thing. It was incredibly complicated, and after a while, Nyota was completely lost.

Alex noticed the blank look on her face and gave her a smile, "Don't worry about it. It took me a while to get, too."and turned to Gailia. Her red hair was tied up in a bun on the top of her head, and she was leaning over the computer, something akin to madness in her eyes.

"If I figure out the uncrypted sequence, can you put a subroutine in?" Alex asked, and the corner of Gailia's mouth quirked upwards in a smile. This was turning out to be a much funner Saturday than she had imagined.

"Hold up," asked Jim, putting his hands up to get the attention of the group, "What's a subroutine? I thought we were just going to change the marking process."

"A subroutine," Gailia explained, typing furiously whilst she did so, "Is an alternative routine for the test to take. We can't just fuck around with the scoring. You'll still fail. We need a whole new set-up. A new 'plot', as it were"

Jim nodded, understanding.

"Alright, so we make it so the simulation doesn't end in the whole crew dying? I like the sound of that a bit better."

Nyota snapped her head up at his words, the realisation of what they were doing beginning to dawn on her.

"You guys are fixing a s _tandardised test_?" She almost yelled, causing Alex to jump, a thin line of pen running vertically down the paper as her hand involuntarily jerked, "That's crazy! It's insane! You're gonna get court-marshalled, maybe even kicked out!"

"That's only if we get caught." T'yonga quipped back, a grin on her red lips. She was enjoying the thrill.

Nyota stood up quickly, shaking her head, "You're mad. All of you."

Her gaze travelled to Alex.

"You're going to be a _doctor,_ Alex. _Five years_ of studying. You know what this will look like on your personal record."

Alex at least had the dignity to look down in shame as Nyota yelled at her.

"What made you change your mind, Alex?" the question came from Jim, "Last week you thought it was the stupidest idea you'd ever heard, and then by Friday, you're leaping at the chance to fuck around with Spock's code. Why?"

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, placing down her pan and her pad of paper.

"I have a point to prove."

Nyota noticed T'yonga's eyes snap up, looking directly at Alex. She looked as if she were about to say something, but a miniscule head-shake from Alex kept her quiet.

"Somebody pissed me off, and I now want to piss them off right back."

The steel in her voice caught Uhura off guard. For such an innocent-looking girl, the anger in her words was too obvious not to notice. Even to Jim, who dropped the question immediately, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. Uhura felt a shiver run through her body at the words, and she was glad that Alex didn't have a grudge with _her_. She didn't seem like the kind of girl you wanted as an enemy.

The room stayed in silence for a while after that, Uhura returning to her bed to study, and the four rulebreakers spread out on the floor, hastily writing and typing, occasionally taking a brak to grab a cup of coffee or a packet of chips. After about ten minutes, a loud whoop brought her out of her revision, and she glanced up to see Alex jumping up, five or six pieces of paper clasped in her hand.

"I've done it!" She yelled, "I've fucking done it! Take _that_ you pointy-eared wank-biscuit"

A loud snort came from T'yonga, who covered it up quickly with a cough.

" _Wank-biscuit_?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. Jim was bent double, tears streaming form his eyes as his whole body wracked with laughter.

"Sorry," muttered Alex, blushing beetroot and sitting back down, to a round of thunderous applause from her other three partners in crime.

Jim wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling.

"Wank-biscuit. God, I love the English..."

* * *

 **SPOCK POV**

"Cadet, could you step into my office, please." Spock asked, relatively politely. He was sat behind his desk, papers neatly stacked into high piles. He knew that she was standing outside his door, waiting. He had summoned her a good twenty minutes ago, but let her stand out there, waiting.

His door opened, and she stepped inside, all blue eyes and black hair and a worried look on her face that caused a tiny wrinkle to appear between her eyebrows. She was carrying a large black folder in her arms, her usual leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

"You asked me to see you, Sir?" She asked, him, something akin to fear on her face. He nodded silently, and gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

"Please, take a seat."

She walked forwards nervously, and Spock noticed to himself that this was the most uncomfortable that he had ever seen her. Her satchel and folder landed on the floor with a dull thump, and she sat down, not meeting his eyes.

"I assume that you're aware of why I called you into my office?" He asked. A plain and clear question, one that she couldn't ignore or skirt around.

She sighed heavily, and brought her eyes upwards, looking at him. He felt small under her gaze, unimportant, even though he was the one doing the reprimanding.

How strange.

"My results, Sir." She said eventually, deciding to bite the bullet and get the situation over with as quickly as possible.

He nodded silently, reaching into a drawer of his desk and pulling out a thick wad of paper. Alex Birchwood's mock exam. She glanced at the papers, then glanced away, not wanting to see the 'F' circled in angry red pen on the top sheet.

"What _happened?"_ Spock asked, leafing through the paper, looking at her answers, "Look at this!" he pointed to a particularly easy question on which she had scored no marks, "I have first years who could have answered this!"

She closed her eyes, disappointed with herself.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, quietly, "I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't concentrating."

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the pulse jumping at a vein in the base of her neck, right next to her already-fading love-bite. He dragged his eyes away, instead looking at her with a disapproving glare.

"You _weren't concentrating_?" He repeated her statement with an air of disbelief, "What if you don't concentrate during your real exam, Alex? What then? Do you want to go back to England without a doctor's licence?"

She sighed loudly, "Of course I don't..." Her hands lifted from her thighs and lay to rest on the desk, rubbing her thumbs over each other nervously. He struggled not to look at them. He'd spent far too many hours thinking about her fingers, how they would feel on his hair, his lips, his-

"It was just..." Alex's voice brought him out of his thoughts, "I was... well... I was angry at you," she admitted, "It clouded me during the test."

He was surprised by that, to say the least. He had always seen Alex as unflappable, unchangeable. Certainly not the type of person to let her emotions affect her performance on a test.

"Angry at me? Why, Cadet?" He asked, trying heroically not to glance at her fingers, twisting around each other rapidly in her nerves. She didn't realise how it had affected him, how it sent a shot of fire straight down his spine.

She blushed red, a surprisingly attractive colour on her, and looked down again, breaking eye contact.

"Your dismissal of me, Sir. After, you know..."

He knew. After the kiss that had blasted their professional student-teacher relationship to shreds. He sighed deeply and pushed himself up from his chair, walking around the desk with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

She stood up in surprise, facing him, and he realised with a jolt just how _small_ she was. At 6'2", he knew that he was taller than the average human, but he towered over this girl, who stood up strait at 5'4", craning her neck upwards to look him defiantly in the eyes. He could wrap his arms around her right now and encircle her entirely.

but he shouldn't be thinking that. Not here. Not now.

"So what are we going to do about this, then?" He murmured, looking down at her. He was so close to her that he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"About what?" She asked back. He could smell the citrus of her shampoo. Without thinking, he lifted his hand up and placed it on her cheek. His fingers were so long that they spanned from her cheek to her hairline, and he felt a slight jolt of pride when he heard the sharp intake of breath that she took at the contact.

"Us."

She smiled, a real smile, and his heart stopped for a second, before she took another step forwards, touching her chest to his. He could feel the hummingbird fluttering of her heart beat, slamming against her ribcage, and he was certain that his heart was just as erratic. She stood up on her tiptoes, and he smiled to himself when, even then, she had to bend her neck upwards to look at him.

"We don't have to do anything." She answered, mesmerising him with the slow movement of her lips, "We can just go with it."

Before he could think of a response, she leaned forwards, touching her lips slowly to his. She was soft, delicate, and he responded to the kiss with enthusiasm, fisting her hair with his hand, a small groan coming from the back of his throat at the feeling of the silky strands running through his fingers. He felt her smile, and he placed his other hand at the small of her back, pulling her into him. A low fire spread from his stomach, and, on a whim, he lifted her small body up, placing her on the desk and standing in between her legs, never breaking the kiss. He deepened it, pushing his tongue inside her mouth forcefully, wanting to taste her, feel her. She grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand, placing the other one on his neck, playing with the small hairs there. His mouth moved furiously, and suddenly, he froze. She had moved her hand from his hair, and was drawing slow, purposeful circles on his palm with her finger. He couldn't help the deep moan that came from the back of his throat, and she heard it, and continued, stroking up his fingers with feather-light touches. His knees were weak, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down, and climbing on top of her, straddling her on the wooden desk. He broke off the kiss, looking down at her. She had never looked more beautiful, eyes blown wide, hair all over her face, lips parted just so. She smiled at him, and that _goddamn_ smile was the last straw. With a gasp, he crashed his lips back to hers and she eagerly responded, shuffling backwards on the desk until she was lying horizontally, him straddling her waist. He felt her reach for his hand, and he let her take it willingly, shuddering at the sensation of her soft skin on his sensitive flesh. She smiled into the kiss, continuing to draw patterns into his sensitive palm, her nails occasionally scraping against his skin. He let out a feral moan and bucked his hips into her. Her eyes widened when she realised just how much she was affecting him. She continued her ministrations, locking their hands together, squeezing slightly. He broke off the kiss, breathing heavily.

"Alex..." he muttered, a choked sound. With a sly smile, she wrapped her hand around his neck and brought him in for another kiss, their tongues crashing together at the impact

Spock awoke with a jolt.

He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he was embarrased to find that his black pyjama pants were a little bit too tight for comfort. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock next to his bed.

Three AM.

He sighed and rubbed his hand through his sweaty hair, getting out of bed and walking towards the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. This was a new deal entirely. He had never felt this way before, not about T'Pring, his bonded mate on Vulcan, not about anyone. He was ashamed to say that he had had this dream more than once. Different scenarios, perhaps, but always ending the same way. He had taken his meditation sessions further, originally for two hours, occasionally now for three, but he had also found himself seeking different ways to cope with her distractions. Some of which probably hadn't been approved by the Vulcan High Council.

In reality, Alex's mock exam results had been exemplary. Only three marks dropped out of 100, and all for careless mistakes. Adding four and seven and getting twelve. Inconsequential things like that.

Since their conversation, she had been infuriatingly disinterested in him, occasionally giving him a cool nod of recognition in the hallway, but refusing blatantly to speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary. That was what he had wanted, wasn't it? Suddenly he wasn't so sure...

His mind wandered back to the words that Leonard McCoy had said, all those months ago in the communal Staff Room.

 _"She's as bright as a flame, but as fiery as one, too. You don't want to get her pissed off with you."_

Spock had the terrible feeling that, after everything that had happened, that was exactly what he had done.

* * *

aha AHA DID YOU THINK IT WAS REAL? DID I TRICK YOU? I'm sorry I'm an awful person, but please please pleeaassee tell me what you thought :) Your reviews keep me writing xx


	20. The Big Test

"We are receiving a distress signal from the U.S.S Kobayashi Maru," Uhura's voice rung loudly in the simulation room, "The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them."

The room was the exact size and shape of the hull of a ship, and, despite being only a simulation, all of the people on board were feeling a slight sense of anxiety at the situation. A stranded ship usually meant bad news.

The only member of the crew who seemed completely at ease with himself was James Tiberius Kirk, who lounged in the Captain's chair with his leg resting casually on the control panel in front of him. He brought a shiny red apple to his lips and took a large bite, looking at Uhura with an irritating calmness. Jim knew that Alex had rigged the test for him, and was positive she wasn't the kind of person who would fail. With her and Gailia, his Orion friend, at the helm of this little bit of treason, there was no doubt in his mind. He was going to be fine.

"Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them… _Captain_." He corrected Uhura, and to his satisfaction, she raised her eyebrows in shock at his cocky laid-back response. To her credit, she bit back the scathing retort that would have said, and instead spun back around on her chair to face her screen, fuming.

Leonard McCoy rolled his eyes at the cockiness of this new student, and glanced at his console.

"Klingon Vessels have entered the neutral zone, and they're firing on us." He drawled in his thick Southern accent. Hopefully with the threat of attack, the farm-boy might actually get his head in gear and _do_ something.

"That's okay." Jim responded, spinning around in his chair and taking another bite out of his apple.

"That's _okay_?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it."

Above the room, in a small observation chamber, Commander Spock clenched his fist. This was a serious test, despite only being a simulation. He had designed it himself, with the idea in mind that nobody could pass it. Why was this Cadet being so flippant towards the obvious danger of the impending Klingons? He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Anger was of no use to a Vulcan, and this Cadet wasn't going to get an emotional response out of him.

"Did he just say, ' _Don't worry about it_ '?" One of the test administrators asked, her greying brown hair scraped tightly into a severe bun on her head, making her sharp face look even more pointed.

Her Co-worker turned to her, a look of complete disbelief on his face, "I think he just did… what the hell is he doing?"

Jim Kirk, oblivious to the discussion in the observation deck, was feeling very pleased with himself.

"Three more Klingon Warbirds decloaking and targeting our ship," Leonard said, giving Jim a disgusted glance, "I don't suppose this is a problem either?"

"Nah."

Jim's nonchalance was beginning to annoy the simulation crew, and a particularly pissed off Weapons officer turned round from her screen to face him, her eyes angry.

"They're _firing,_ 'Captain'"

James ran his hand through his hair, completely calm despite the chaos surrounding him. He knew how this was going to go.

"Alert Medical Bay to prepare to receive all injured parties from the U.S.S Kobayashi Maru." He said calmy, taking a glance up at the observation deck and winking at the one-sided glass.

"They are _firing at us Cap-"_

"Alert Medical Bay." He continued, and smiled to himself. If this worked, he was going to have to buy Alex a drink tonight. The way that she worked was incredible, he had to admit. He had never seen anybody manipulate code the way that she did.

It was kind of sexy… in a way…

He shook his head of the image, if there was one thing that he didn't need to get distracted by, it was another girl. He was already in deep shit after sleeping with Gailia a few weeks ago during a drunken night out, he didn't need another female on his mind. He hadn't told T'yonga yet, was hoping that she might never figure out, but the guilt was pressing on him.

"Our ship is being hit. Shields at sixty percent." The annoyed voice came from Doctor Leonard McCoy.

"I understand."

"Should we at least, I dunno… _fire back?_ "

"Umm…" Jim pretended to think about it, "No."

"Of course not," sighed Leonard resignedly. If this kid wanted to blow his test, it was his choice.

Suddenly, with a thunk and a loud crash, all of the lights in the simulation room switched off, plunging the bridge in blackness. There was a scream of surprise from one of the Weapons Officers, and a few murmured swears, and then, as if nothing had happened, the lights came flickering back on again, once again bathing the room in harsh glow.

"What the-" Muttered Leonard McCoy, glancing at James Tiberius Kirk, who now had a grin on his face so wide that it looked like his cheeks would split just from the pure force of it. He winked at Leonard, and the doctor opened his mouth in shock, taken aback.

"The Kobyashi Maru is still in distress… but…" Cadet Nyota Uhura tapped the screen of her control panel, a look of disbelief on her face, "It appears that the Klingons have stopped firing, Sir."

In the darkness of the observation room, the inner third of Spock's left eyebrow spasmed. He glanced over at a test administrator, a look of complete confusion on his face. The woman looked at the PADD in her hand, and looked back up, shrugging.

"Arm the photons." Jim said, placing his apple down on his hand rest and leaning forwards. Things were finally starting to get interesting, "Prepare to fire on Klingon Warbirds." He was going to fucking _marry_ that smart little British girl if he got out of this unscathed,

"Jim, their shields are up…" Doctor McCoy, looking far less sure of himself than he orginially did.

"Are they?" Asked Jim, a hint of victory in his voice.

Bones looked again at his console, checking the status of the Klingon War Vessels.

"…No… They're not."

Jim narrowly resisted punching the air in victory. She had done it. Alex Birchwood had only gone and rigged the most infamous test in Starfleet history.

"Fire on Klingon Warships." Said Jim, leaning back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head, "One photon each should do it, let's not waste ammunition here."

The room shook violently as his orders were carried out, the simulated Warships blowing to smithereens. Each member of the crew was looking at Jim wide eyed, in shock. He revelled in the attention, pushing his dark blond hair out of his eyes and smiling a winning grin.

"Alrighty." He said, pushing himself up off his seat once the room had stopped shaking, "Begin rescue of the stranded crew. So, we've destroyed all enemy ships, nobody on board was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru crew is underway."

Jim looked directly up to the small black screen in the top corner of the room, where he knew a team of specially trained test observers were sat watching him. He smiled that cocky smile once more.

"Was there anything else?"

Inside the observation pod, everything was silent. The three observers were staring, wide-eyed at the scene that had just taken place in front of them. One of them turned to Spock, a look of admiration in his eyes.

"How the hell did that kid beat your test?"

Spock took a deep breath out through his nose, trying to push aside the fury that he felt rising at the cocky look in James Kirk's face. He did not often _feel_ , and the sensation was uncomfortable for him. The last time that he had let himself get so emotive was in his flat, with…

He shouldn't be thinking about that now. He sighed to himself, resigned, and looked at the officer, his face a blank mask.

"I don't know"

* * *

As always, please let me know what you think. A slightly shorter chapter today, I'm afraid but I hope I did it justice. Alex will return in the next one... :)  
Also, what were your impressions on the 3rd person narritive (not focusing on any particular character), because i dont often do that. What have been your favourite POV (1st person Alex, 3rd Person Spock, 3rd Person Neutral), and what would you like to see more of? Please drop a review if you're enjoying this story x


	21. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Just to let you all now that I've started a poll (that you can find on my profile page) of what you guys may want to see in the upcoming chapters. If you could go and vote on it, that would be great, because it could help me figure out how the rest of this story is gonna go xx thanks x


	22. Authoritative Measures

Just a quick note before this chapter. I am changing the canon a slight bit (i.e, in the film, the crew set off for Vulcan after this Chapter, but I am waiting roughly 3 weeks until they set off. I'm just doing this for the purpose of the plot that I have planned.) With that said, here we go. :)

(Also, if you spot any typos, please let me know so I can change them) xx Enjoy ;)

* * *

"James. T. Kirk. Step forwards."

The loud voice of the Academy President echoed around the large amphitheatre, and I winced to myself at his harsh tone. I was stood up, dressed in my formal blue Starfleet uniform, along with countless other students. We had been called together for what had been mysteriously named a 'Public Announcement.' My eyes scanned the large crowd, the mass of students blurring together in a sea of red yellow and blue, until I focused on Jim. He had that cocky smile plastered onto his face, and he seemed perfectly at ease with himself as he stepped forwards, out of the throng of over 500 students, to stand and face the council by a podium. He knew exactly what was about to happen.

As ashamed as I was to admit it, I hoped that he would leave my name out of his confession. Yes, I fucked around with the Kobayashi Maru, by the looks of it, I did it _well_ , but that didn't mean that I was ready to face the consequences. Meddling with a standardised test was a serious business, and one that the administration certainly didn't take lightly. I didn't want to be expelled from Starfleet only weeks before my final exams…

I felt a firm pressure on my left hand, and turned my head sideways to see T'yonga, her green face turning paler by the second. She had grabbed my hand with such force that it was a wonder my fingers didn't fall off but I just squeezed back harder.

Neither of us wanted Jim to leave. As much of an arsehole as he was, he could be sweet, nice, friendly.

And he had, to my knowledge, been entirely faithful to T'yonga. Something that, in my time knowing boys, was very rare these days.

"An incident has occurred today that concerns the entire student body. Academic immorality by one is an assault on us all. It will. Not. Stand."

The auditorium was silent. The midday sun beat down on us, and I felt a drop of sweat run down my back, though from the heat or the stress I wasn't sure. Jim's Kobayashi Maru test had only been this morning, but the Academy had wasted no time in gathering the entire student body to witness Jim's public humiliation. For a split second, I wondered how Spock had reacted to Jim beating the test. A small burst of satisfaction ran down my spine as I imagined him, open mouthed and furious, watching as his test, a test which he had spent years perfecting, be beaten by a rugged farm-boy with a Southern lilt. I hid a smirk at the thought. It served him right.

"Cadet Kirk," The President continued, facing Jim with a stare that would make lesser men wilt, "Evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to regulation 17.43 of Starfleet Code. Is there anything that you would like to say before we begin?"

Jim cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the deafening silence of the large arena. All eyes were on him, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was absolutely loving it.

"Um… yes." He said. His voice was loud. Clear and confident in the deafening silence of the arena. "I believe that I have the right to face my accuser directly?"

The President seemed slightly taken aback by the question, but nodded nonetheless. There was a shuffle as, from the masses of Cadets on the other side of the stadium, a distinct figure clad in a blue uniform, not so different from mine, took a large step forwards. His face was pure thunder. I assumed that to the rest of the student body, he looked entirely calm, completely composed, but I knew him too well. I saw the telltake quirk of the innermost third of his left eyebrow, the tiny wrinkle that was beginning to form in the indent of his forehead.

He was fucking pissed.

"This is Commander Spock, one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru test for the last four years." The President gestured to him. I took a deep breath in and tried to stop the fluttering increase of my heartrate at his name. I was over him. Completely over him.

Wasn't I?

Spock walked up to the other podium. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a cat stalking his prey. He knew what the outcome of this would be, he didn't have any need to be unsure of himself.

"Cadet Kirk."

I was expecting his voice, but at the sound of it, I reflexively squeezed T'yonga's hand a little bit tighter. His low baritone echoed around the arena, confident and assured. His words, as innocent as they were, went straight to the pit of my stomach. A small part of me wanted to hear that smooth voice say some _very_ different things to me. I shook my head of the unwanted mental image and continued to look at Jim. Spock had made his desicion regarding me, no amount of wishful thinking was going to change that.

"It is obvious you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, therefore changing the conditions of the test."

Hearing him speak in such an authoritative way turned my knees to jelly. Evidently, I wasn't quite as 'over him' as I had assumed.

"Your point being?" Jim asked with a smirk.

"In academic vernacular," he continued, oblivious to my internal trauma, "You cheated."

The corner of Jim's mouth quirked up in a way I knew all too well. He was about to say something stupid.

"Respectfully," He begun, and I was positive that what he was about to say would not be respectful at all, "Define 'cheating'."

I rolled my eyes. Trust Jim to try to piss of the Vulcan who stood between him and certain expulsion. There was a thin line between brave, and bloody suicidal, and Jim had just stepped over it.

"To deceive by trickery." Spock answered, unsure of where Jim was headed with his line of questions.

"Now let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to," Jim continued, and I sighed audibly, earning a few surprised looks from the students surrounding me. He hadn't just _stepped_ over the line, he'd bloody _pole vaulted_ it, "The test itself is rigged, isn't it? It's programmed to be unwinnable. So isn't the test itself a cheat?"

T'yonga took a sharp breath in next to me, and I squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"He's a fucking idiot." She muttered, "He's an absolute fucking idiot. Why doesn't he just shut up?"

I smiled and leaned over to her, whispering in her ear.

"I don't think Jim _does_ shutting up…"

She begrudgingly smiled at that, and rolled her eyes again, turning her attention back towards the podiums at the front of the arena, where Jim and Spock were looking at each other as if they wanted nothing more than to tear the other apart.

"That precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario-" Spock answered.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios." Jim interrupted, and I couldn't help the small snort that came from the back of my throat at his response. Typical Jim, shoot first, ask questions later.

At the noise, Spock's head spun around, and he faced me directly, his eyes boring into mine, dark and emotionless, as the ghost of a smile died on my lips. His eyebrow quirked once again, and he broke the gaze, returning his attention to Jim, and leaving me shaking in the aftermath.

"Then not only have you violated the rules, Captain, you have failed to understand the primary lesson of the test." He continued, his voice flat and even, showing no sign that he had lost concentration.

"And what would that be?" Asked Jim, his eyebrow raised. He leant his elbow on the podium and I shook my head imperceptibly. This boy was going to get himself expelled.

"Surely you, Captain, of all people, should know that you cannot cheat death?"

The reaction from the auditorium was instantaneous. T'yonga gasped out loud, putting her hand to her mouth in shock, and I heard a mumbling run through the student body. I had no idea what the matter was.

"What's going on?" I asked T'yonga, but she simply shook her head and kept her hand pressed to her mouth.

"I of all people?" The assured cockiness was gone from Jim's voice, and in its place was a mixture of anger and disgust.

"Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, was killed in action after assuming command of his vessel, was he not?"

At this, I couldn't help but gasp. I saw Spock's head twitch slightly, but he kept his eyes focused on Jim. That was below the belt, even for a Vulcan.

"Maybe you just don't love that I beat your test…" Kirk muttered, though it was easily audible in the now silent arena.

"I am Vulcan, Captain. 'Love' does not appear in my vernacular. You failed to discern the purpose of the test."

I supressed a slight twitch at his words. He couldn't love? Well then, how did he explain the way that he looked at me during those marking sessions when he thought I didn't notice? The way that he had kissed me that first time, in his flat, moulding his body to mine like we were two puzzle pieces that fit together? I shook the thought from my head and continued to watch the match below, intrigued.

"Enlighten me."

"The purpose," Spock's voice was flat, completely contained, "Is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain command of the ship and one's crew. That is a quality expected in every Starfleet Captain."

Jim considered his response for a second, and I silently willed him to just take responsibility and stop bloody antagonising Spock, but it appeared that my prayers went unanswered, as that familiar lilt turned up his mouth once more.

"You keep reminding me that you're Vulcan, you seem very proud of the fact. But doen't that mean, Sir, that you don't experience fear at all?"

Where was he going with this?

"And that said, Sir," He continued, "Surely that means that you're unsuitable to make command decisions, based on that lack of fear."

Spock's eyebrow rose, and I noticed that his left hand was balling up into a fist. If Jim didn't shut up soon, he would get himself court-marshalled.

"And I'm _certain_ that you'll have difficulty in commanding the respect of your Crew, Sir," He continued, and it was all I could do to not put my head in my hands in despair. The first time that he had ever met Spock, and he was already doing a mighty fine job of pissing him off.

"What do you mean by that, Kirk?" Spock asked. The whole auditorium was silent, enthralled by the argument. What they had expected to be a short quick reprimand had turned into something far more exciting.

"I only know one person who's met you, Sir. And _she_ didn't have particularly nice things to say about you."

I froze.

He wouldn't dare.

I glanced at T'yonga in panic, my eyes wide, and she looked back at me, the same expression of blind unbelief etched onto her face. Was Jim really going to drop me into his argument?

"Alex Birchwood." Jim said, and the reaction from Spock was almost tangible. His whole body twitched slightly, as if an electric shock has been passed down his spine. His hands, which were in loose fists, now squeezed together so tightly that the knuckles were begeinning to turn white, and I could swear that the tips of his ears were beginning to turn green. Jim, noticing that he had got a reaction, continued, oblivious to my discomfort.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him. I'm going to kick him so hard up the fucking arse that his prostate comes out of his goddamn mouth." I muttered, and I heard T'yonga snort next to me.

"She told me that she found you rude, unkind, stuck-up… a complete prick…" Jim continued, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that the ground would swallow me whole, "I think she may have called you a 'wank-biscuit' at one time. Alex likes everyone, Spock. So if she doesn't like you, I think that says a lot about you…"

"Enough." The voice came from the Principal, who stood up and banged his hand on his podium, finally tired of the argument, "James Kirk, you are hereby on academic probation pending the results of your hearing. The rest of you…" He gestured to the students, who were still standing, in complete shock at the events that they had just witnessed, "You are dismissed."

I exhaled a deep breath that I didn't know I had been holding. I was furious. How _dare_ Jim bring me into one of his personal arguments? I was a human being, not a goddamn punchline!

The students around me filed out of their rows and begun talking, their muttered conversations loud enough for me to hear.

"-I've never met Kirk before, but he seems like a cool guy-"

"-Well that was a lot more interesting than I had expected…"

"-Did you see the way that Spock reacted when Jim mentioned that girl? Who is she?"

I put my head down and burrowed through the students, managing to leave T'yonga behind me in the stands. I headed straight for the platform, where Spock was still standing, stock still, frozen. He noticed me coming, and coughed awkwardly, placing his hands on the podium. As I neared him I noticed the definite green tint to his cheeks. The students all filed out as I made my way down, leaving us both alone in the vast emptiness of the now-deserted auditorium.

"Sir…" I was out of breath by the time that I finally reached him, all the students thankfully gone or going, "About what Jim said-"

"It makes no difference to me whether you like me or not, Cadet." His voice was strained slightly, and I didn't fail to see the way that the left third of his upper lip twitched slightly when he said it, "You are a student. Nothing more. You are perfectly at libertey to like and dislike whomever you choose."

With that, he turned to go. Without thinking, I reached for him, grabbing his wrist as he turned, my skin making contact with the palm of his hand. He snatched it away, almost angrily, and I may have been imagining it, but I was sure that I heard a throaty gasp as the pad of my finger stroked his sensitive skin.

"Sir…" I continued, and by now, his face was almost completely green, the tips of his ears nearing the colour of the grass growing in the centre of the auditorium, "Those things, the things that Kirk said… I _did_ say them..."

He raised an eyebrow at this.

"But that was before… you know…" I made a vague gesture with my hands, and I could tell from the way that his lips parted that he understood what I was talking about. Before everything had ended up very confusing between the two of us.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and when he opened them again, all of his barriers had broken down. The blank stare was gone, and it was replaced by eyes that were filled with a deep emotion that I couldn't put my finger on. I almost took a step backwards, but Spock took one forwards, and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. The feeling of his long fingers encircling my bicep made my knees weak, but I stood my ground, looking up at him. He glanced around us to make sure that we were alone, and, satisfied that we were, took another step forwards, until his chest was touching mine, and I had to strain my neck to look up into his eyes.

"I can't seem to keep myself away from you…" He muttered, letting go of my arm. It dropped limply back to my side.

"Then stop trying." I responded, surprised at my own audacity.

"I can't…" He struggled to find the right words, his face contorted, "I can't _be_ with you in the way that you want… the way that _I_ want…"

My heart was fluttering in my chest, and I was sure that the red flush in my face matched the green one in his.

"But… if you'd let me. I'd like to be your friend."

The words took me by surprise, and I took a step back involuntarily. He let me go, staying where he was, the look on his face telling me that he wanted to be so much more than just _friends._ But I understood. His professionalism was on the line, along with my career. It wasn't worth throwing away over a doomed romance. I sighed resignedly, and nodded, looking back up at him, a small smile on my face. A smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"Friends. I can do that."

He almost exhaled a sigh of relief at my words, and I saw his body relax, the tension leaving his shoulders. The corner of his lip quirked up into something that almost resembled a smile, and he held his hand out to mine.

I looked at it in confusion. Surely he wasn't expecting me to-

"I believe that when humans make an agreement, they shake hands." He said, proferring his out to me.

The corner of my lip lifted, "Sir… you're a Vulcan. I know about the hand thing. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Suddenly the vast emptiness of the amphitheatre seemed almost too small, stifling.

"I do not believe that it would make me too uncomfortable, Alex." The use of my first name still surprised me, "And I would rather that we did this properly. A proper agreement. When on Earth…"

"Do as the Earthlings do?" I finished his sentence for him, and a low chuckle came from his throat. The sound surprised me. I had never heard him laugh before.

"Something like that."

I rolled my eyes at his traditionalism, but smiled nonetheless, and lifted my hand to his.

"To friendship." I said, taking his hand in mine and shaking it firmly. He was cold, much colder than me, and as our hands touched, a jolt of electricity ran down my spine. I felt him tense up slightly, and he let a short puff of air out through his mouth, but apart from that seemed fine.

"To friendship." He replied.

He let go of my hand and composed himself, before giving me a nod, looking far happier than he did before.

"I will see you tomorrow Alex." He said, smiling. An actual proper smile, "And if you wish, you may resume your Friday extra-credit sessions with me."

"I'd like that."

He nodded once more, and I turned to go, clenching and unclenching my hand to try to get rid of the tingling sensation that now covered it. I continued walking, not looking back, until I almost reached the exit of the arena. A low voice called me back.

"Alex?"

I looked around, seeing him stood in the same place that I had left him, a look on his face that I would almost describe as myschevious.

"What?"

His mouth quirked up into a smirk.

" _Wank-biscuit?_ "

* * *

AHAHAA THROW THE STONES ONCE MORE...

Has Alex just been friendzoned... by a Vulcan?

Do not worry, romance-lovers... things will change very very soon. Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review xx


	23. Vulcan Perspectives

The option 'Spock 1st person POV' was voted on a bunch of times in th poll, so here you go guys. I hope I did him justice.

To make it clear. this Chapter is written entirely from Spock's Point of View, so when it says 'I', it's Spock talking :)

Also, to those of you wondering what a wank-biscuit is... well... it's a (not very commonly used) British insult.

It's kind of a play on the term 'limp biscuit', and if you google 'limp biscuit definition, im pretty sure urbandictionary has one.

Be warned, though, it's a **very** NSFW insult. If you don't want to find out the definition, just know that its a pretty bad insult. :)

Alrighty here we go.

* * *

I shook my right hand, trying to rid myself of the tingling sensation that ran all the way from the tips of my fingers to my wrist. I had thought that I had been prepared to shake hands with Alex, but evidently, I had been incorrect. The feeling of her small hand in mine, her human skin much warmer than my Vulcan fingers, had very nearly made me reconsider my offer of just friendship. I figured that it was the most logical course to take, to offer her a relationship that didn't involve romance. She was like a flame, and I, the metaphorical moth. I didn't seem to be able to stop myself from meeting her, but I decided that it would be better to not put our professionalisms at risk.

I walked through the set of double doors in the Math building, making my way to my office.

I had a hacker to catch.

"Pointy!"

I struggled not to roll my eyes at the derogatory nickname. It was always possible to rely on Doctor Leonard McCoy to pop up where he wasn't wanted. I turned around, and the rugged face of the Doctor was right behind me, a cocky assured grin on his face.

"Doctor." I acknowledged him and continued walking. Hopefully he would get the message and leave me alone. I had a lot of work to be doing.

"I heard someone fucked up your test?"

He was walking next to me now, his long strides easily keeping up with mine. I turned to face him, and nodded.

"If by that you mean that somebody managed to install a subroutine, overwriting all of my original coding, then you heard correctly, Doctor."

He let a huff of air out through his mouth at my response, surprised. I didn't blame him. I was proud of that test, it had taken the best part of four years to perfect. The coding was masterfully encrypted, I hadn't thought that anybody could crack it.

Evidently I had been wrong.

"So what are you gonna do?"

It appeared that Doctor McCoy was going to continue walking next to me as I neared my office, and I rolled my eyes in annoyance. After everything that had happened, my control was beginning to waver slightly. James Tiberius Kirk, as impertinent as he was, had managed to affect me more than I should have let him during the hearing. His suggestion that I, as a Vulcan, was unable to properly experience fear, and therefore was unsuitable to Captain a ship, had angered me.

Not as much as what he had said next, however.

When he had brought Alex into the conversation, it had taken all my self control not to leap over that goddamn podium and see how cocky he looked with my fist in his face. It scared me, the amount that I was made emotive by her. I had always been taught, right from the beginning, that emotions were a weakness. Something that should be hidden away. Alex somehow changed all that. She laughed, and cried, and _smiled_ , and every single break, every single emotion that slipped through her cracks was like a ray of sunlight. It had got to the point where I craved it like oxygen.

The thought of Alex talking to James, confiding in him, made me uncomfortable. Of course, she was at liberty to talk to anybody, see anybody, but did it have to be _James Kirk_? I didn't like the idea of her spending too much time with him, he seemed like they type of man who may take advantage of a girl like Alex.

The thought caused me to squeeze my hand slightly tighter, the jolts of electricity that ran up my back at the painful feeling clearing my head.

"I'm going to find whoever messed with it."

The Doctor looked at me, a confused expression on his face.

"It was Jim. Wasn't it?"

I shook my head, no, it wasn't Jim.

"James Kirk is smart, but he's not intelligent enough to decrypt that code. I didn't think that I knew _anybody_ who was intelligent enough to decrypt the code. He had help. Good help."

"Well how are you going to find them?" McCoy asked me, as we turned a corner and finally reached my office. I scanned myself in and opened the door, walking in. I felt my face heat as the familiar scene brought to life one or two of the more vivid dreams that I had been having over the past weeks. Vulcans didn't really _do_ sex. Sure, it happened, once ever seven years during Pon Farr, but apart from during those secluded few weeks, it never crossed my mind. That was until very recently. I never dreamt, but now, all too often, my dreams were full of scenarios that I was positive wouldn't fall under the classification of a student teacher relationship. I side-glanced at the desk, and the unwanted mental image of _her_ body under mine, panting and sweating and moving and kissing, flashed into my mind with an almost startling urgency.

My hand began to tingle again.

McCoy followed me into my office and I held back an irritated sigh. It looked like I wasn't going to be getting rid of him any time soon.

I walked towards my desk, pushing the unwanted images out of my mind, and switched on my computer, pulling a pen drive out of my pocket. I held it up to McCoy, and he looked at me as if I had gone mad.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, confused.

"Can you tell a Monet from a Picasso?" I asked him, sitting down and pushing the pen drive into the side of the computer, smiling to myself as I saw the files flash up on the screen.

"Can I _what_?" He replied to my question, pulling a chair up and sitting next to me, looking at the screen as it loaded.

"Can you tell a Monet from a Picasso?" I asked him again, searching through the files for the one that I was looking for. I opened it, and at once, my screen was filled with tiny green letters.

The subroutine code.

McCoy sighed, and scratched the scraggly hairs of the beard that was beginning to form on his chin.

"I suppose I _could_ , but what the hell does that have to do with math?"

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and pointed to the screen.

"This is the code which was inputted into the Kobayashi Maru test." I explained, " _This_ is the code that our hacker designed. What I can do, using this computer, is see the method that they used to create it. I can see the steps that they took to break my encryption."

"So?"

"So you can tell a Monet from a Picasso because of the different styles of painting. The different brushstrokes, different colours."

I saw his eyebrows raise and his face lighten as he begun to understand my meaning.

"And," I continued, "You can tell a mathematician from the way that they work out a piece of code. It's like artwork, Leonard."

I saw his eyes widen at my use of his first name, but continued nonetheless.

"Every mathematician works things out slightly differently. Most would work out a small piece of the code at a time, and change it in batch. _This_ hacker," I pointed to a small row of code in the left corner of the screen, "Worked out the entire base code before even beginning to change anything. I know every mathematician in this entire faculty, Leonard. I know how they work, know how they function. I know their methods."

"If you can work out the brushstrokes…" Leonard began, and I nodded.

"Then I can find the painter."

He nodded in understanding, taking a closer look at the screen, even though I could tell that he didn't understand any of it. Suddenly, the possibility of catching our hacker seemed far more plausible. I took a closer look over the code, and couldn't help but be impressed. Whoever had decrypted it was very intelligent.

"Could you please pass me that pad of paper, Leonard?" I asked, not moving my eyes from the screen. He grunted noncomittaly and moved from his seat, picking up a half empty notebook from the windowsill and coming to sit back next to me, placing it on the desk.

"Thank you."

"What are you trying to do?"

I pointed with my pen to a small section of code on the screen.

"They're smart, but they're easily distracted. Look at this. This part of the sequence coded for the beginning of the simulation. Do you remember how, at the start, the subroutine wasn't in place? It only kicked in about half way through?"

He nodded in affirmative.

"That," I continued, scribbling hastily on the notepaper, "Is because the hacker divided twelve by three, right here, and got five."

Leonard snorted, but my face remained as stoic as always. Something about the way that this person had worked out the code seemed very familiar. I was positive that I had seen this pattern before. That being said, this wasn't the kind of mistake that a more experienced member of Starfleet would make.

"They're a student. Fourth or fifth year. Bright, but prone to making stupid mistakes…"

"A student?" Leonard asked, "Shit. They're gonna be in a fuckload of trouble."

I nodded in affirmative. He was right. Once we caught this student, their time at Starfleet would be over. I continued writing on my paper, jotting down every little mistake that the hacker made. What kind of person would work out the entire base code first instead of doing a segment at a time, but then slip up on the smaller details?

I took a slightly closer look at the code, and froze.

"Fuck…" I muttered. I thuoght that I had said it quietly enough to avoid detection, but the scandalised look from Leonard told me differently. He had never heard me swear before. I never did. The use of crude language to display emotions was shameful to a Vulcan, but in this situation, I couldn't help but feel that it was called for.

"What?" he asked, " _What the fuck is it?"_

There was a long pause between us. One that lasted far longer than it should have. I sighed loudly and rubbed my jaw with my left hand, shaking my head.

"It's Alex."

Leonard gave me a long, hard stare.

"What?" His voice was cold now, icy.

I sighed again, and looked back at the computer screen, scrolling down the pages of code with a practiced eye. I knew her, knew how she worked. This had her name all over it.

"Alex Birchwood. This is her work."

"Fuck off." There was no jest in Leonard's voice. He was pissed.

"Fuck off, Spock. That's bullshit. I've known that girl for five years. Sure, she's reckless, but she's not fucking suicidal. You've got your calculations wrong."

I shook my head, closing the lid of the laptop, and picking up my notepad, looking at my writing.

"I haven't. I've worked in close contact with her for almost a year. I know how she works. She's smart, really smart, but she makes careless errors, throws away marks on simple additions and divisions…" I didn't want it to be true, couldn't believe it, but the evidence was staring me directly in the face, "She's the only person that I know who would work out the whole base code first."

Leonard put his head in his hands, muttered out a muffled curse.

"I've spent five years of my life getting that girl to be a doctor. Why the _fuck_ would she do something like this?"

He looked up at me, and I was uncomfortable to see the amount of emotion in his eyes. Sadness, betrayal, disappointment, confusion.

"I think…" I began, not sure what to say, but knowing that I had to say it, "I think it may have been my fault."

" _Your fault?"_ He asked, confused, "Spock, don't blame yourself for this, how were you supposed to know-"

"We had an argument." I continued, "I think… I think she may have been trying to get to me."

"Alex Birchwood isn't the type of girl to throw her life away over an argument. This was bigger. A lot bigger."

I felt an uncomfortable feeling flush through my chest. _Guilt_ , I realised.

"What did you do to her?" His voice was accusatory.

I sighed loudly, "It was just a disagreement. Inconsequential."

He slammed his hand roughly on the table, and I jumped, "Dammit man. Alex wouldn't throw her whole career away over ' _Inconsequential_. What the _fuck_ did you do to her?"

"I kissed her."

The words came out before I could stop them, and I regretted it almost instantly. Leonard's eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared below his hairline. He leaned back in his seat slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, an expression of complete disbelief on his face.

"You fucking _what_?"

Well, the proverbial cat was out of the bag, and Vulcans are unable to lie, so I decided to tell Leonard the truth.

"The night that she stayed at yours to study lumbar punctures. Well, she came back to my apartment."

"You fucking idiot, Spock."

"I didn't want her walking home in the dark, that was all. But things…" I sighed, "Things got out of control."

Leonard's eyes widened, and his mouth moved into a shocked 'O'.

"Are you telling me that Alex ruined her degree because you couldn't keep it in your pants?" I saw his face move into an expression of complete shock as his mind wandered, "Did you… did you _sleep with her_?"

My eyebrows raised at his question, and I felt my face flush at the images that unwantedly sneaked their way into my mind.

"No! No, definitely not." I defended myself, my voice was, to my embarrasement, getting far too animated for a respectable Vulcan, "She slept on the couch, but the next morning I… I told her that it would never work between us…"

"You blew her off?"

I rolled my eyes, that uncomfortably familiar feeling of guilt creeping up into my gut once more.

"I told her that I saw her as a student-"

"No wonder she got pissed at you, man."

I put my head in my hands, resting it on the desk.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, my voice strained. She would be expelled for sure. To mess around with a standardised test was a serious offence, certainly one that Administration wouldn't take lightly. The thought of her, going back to England, never to return sent a shot of pain through my stomach. I would never see her again. We could never, would never-

Leonard cleared his throat, and picked up the pad of paper with my working out on, ripping out the pages that I had hastily scribbled on earlier. I looked up at him in confusion.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," He said, standing up and taking the papers with him.

"You're gonna go and talk to her, sort things out between the two of you. And I…"

He held the papers up in his hand.

"I'm gonna burn these. Alex Birchwood is not leaving Starfleet. Not on my watch."

* * *

Y'ALL BETTER REVIEW YA WANK BISCUITS. Haha. The next update may be a bit longer to wait for, because the last 3 have all been within days of eachother. I promise it will be worth the wait though xx


	24. T'hy'la

Wahoo I'm back and I had a RECORD NUMBER OF REVIEWS 23 ON ONE CHAPTER YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU I DO

Also, many thanks to Ryuno Chu, who very kindly pointed out to me that Vulcans run _colder_ than humans, not hotter, so hopefully I've managed to iron out those mistakes in the last few chapters.

Remember: Vulcan temperatures: cold. Vulcan appearances: hot.

Onwards and upwards, this Chapter is set about * hours after the last one (the same day, just at night.) Hope you enjoy x

Also this is my longest ever chapter to date (4400 words) and took a good 4 hours to write, so PLEASE review, because this one took a long time to churn out.

* * *

 _Cadet Birchwood,_

 _I need to see you in my office at 4:00 sharp tomorrow afternoon._

 _It is a matter of some urgency._

 _Professor. S_

Well that was never a good sign.

T'yonga had snorted with laughter when I had shown her the email, at half past twelve the night after the infamous Kobayashi Maru. We were practically 'campus famous' now. Well, Jim was, at least, I had managed to thankfully keep my name out of the gossip.

"You think he's gonna retract that offer of friendship and replace it with something a little more physical?" she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

We were out again. I had begrudgingly been dragged to one of the countless clubs in town to celebrate Jim's success, but so far, hadn't even seen him. By the looks of it, he had sneaked off to escape the wrath that I was ready to throw at him. He had dropped me in the shit by telling Spock what I had said about him in that trial, and when I found him, I would be sure to give him a piece of my mind. I turned back to T'yonga, PADD in my hand.

"It says it was sent at 17:50. That was only about five hours after the hearing." I continued, looking at her with something akin to panic in my eyes, "Look at the way that he's written it. He called me 'Cadet Birchwood."

"He always calls you 'Cadet Birchwood,' Alex," she sighed, placing her glass of Bacardi and coke on the table between us, "Stop being paranoid and put that goddamn PADD away."

I smiled and rolled my eyes, but begrudging put my PADD back in my bag, trying to stop the growing sense of unease that was running through my body. Surely something had to be wrong for him to have sent me such a curt email.

My blood turned to ice.

"You don't think he knows that it was me, do you, 'Yong?" I asked, my voice laced with fear. If he knew that I had fucked around with his test, that was it for me, I would be out of Starfleet before I could even say a word in my own defence.

She smiled and took another sip of her drink before resting her arms on the table, "I think that this is the first time you've ever broken the rules, and you're beating yourself up about it. Loosen up, Alex. You cleared every trace of your I.P address from that server, there is no way in hell that pointy eared bastard could find out that it was you."

She was right. I took a small sip of my glass of red wine, a celebration calls for a classy drink, and nodded at her.

"True. True. Alright, Spock off the brain. Have you seen Jim around?"

Her face dropped at my question, and I leaned forwards, concerned. Usually she was gushing to tell me about her boyfriend, so why was she being so quiet all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

She sighed, stirring her drink with the tip of her finger and looking at me with blank eyes.

"He's been acting really weird recently, ignoring my calls, skipping out on nights out, that sort of thing. I'm probably just being paranoid but I have the feeling that…" she took a deep breath, "He's been seeing someone else."

My eyes widened at her admission. I knew that James was a bit of a playboy, but I never took him for the type of person to cheat. I gave her idea some more thought, though, and winced to myself when I realised that it made a lot of sense. He had seemed awfully pally with that other Orion girl, Gailia, the one who had helped me on the Kobayashi Maru.

"I'm sure he's not," I said reassuringly, placing my hand on hers and giving her what I hoped was a convincing smile, " _Now_ who is the one being paranoid?"

Jim may be cheating, but if he was, he was going to have to tell her himself. I wasn't about to break my best friend's heart over some washed up country hick. She smiled at my response, taking a long swig from her drink and patting my hand.

"It's always the men, huh?"

And _that_ was the moment that Jim Kirk decided to muscle in on our conversation, staggering up to the table with a different girl on each arm, entirely inebriated. He shook them off when he saw the look of seething hatred on my face, and instead, sat down next to us, giving me that cocky grin that I knew so well.

"James Tiberius Kirk," I said, looking him directly in the eyes, at least he had the dignity to look slightly sheepish.

"Alex, listen, I'm so-"

"NEVER," I yelled, poking him directly in the chest with my finger, "Use me as a bargaining chip in one of your arguments _ever again_."

"I'm sorry about that, I panicked."

I rolled my eyes and removed my finger from his torso, taking a small sip of my wine and trying to look composed.

"Well _don't panic next time."_

I could see the surprise on his face at my anger. He had seen me annoyed before, but always directed at other people, usually certain Vulcans. He'd never seen me pissed off with _him_ before. He looked genuinely sorry, though, so I decided to forgive him. T'yonga surprisingly quiet, still looking down at her drink, playing with her fingernails.

I knew what I needed to do.

"Well, I'm gonna go get another drink," I muttered, picking up my obviously half-full glass of wine and scraping my chair on the floor, standing up. I gave Jim a hard look.

"You guys have a lot to talk about."

And with that I walked away. If Jim _had_ cheated, I was confident that he would do the right thing and tell T'yonga. And if he hadn't, well, they were just going to have a chat, weren't they? I walked up to the bar, necking the last half of my glass of wine, and hailed the barman, a tall man with skin the colour of forget-me-nots.

"Just a glass of coke, please,"

He nodded and turned his back, preparing my drink for me. If I was going to meet the Professor tomorrow, I was going to have to be sober for it, and that meant no more alcohol tonight. As I watched the barman reach into the fridge and pull out a bottle of coke, my mind wandered to what the mysterious meeting tomorrow could be about. That familiar clench of anxiety crept up in my chest again, but I brushed it away. There was no way in hell that he could know that I had anything to do with fixing the Kobayashi Maru, I had wiped every trace of my computer's I.P address from the subroutine. It was impossible to track me.

I hoped.

I paid for my coke with a five dollar note and stuffed the change back into my pocket, leaning on the bar and taking a sip of my cold drink, watching the scene between T'yonga and Jim unfold on the table in front of me. She looked pissed off, waving her arms wildly as she shouted at him. This could only mean bad news. So Jim _had_ cheated, and had finally told her. He had his hands up in a surrender pose, but she continued to shout at him, poking him hard in the chest with her index finger. They had drawn quite a crowd, and I could see a few people next to me on the bar watching the scene with growing interest, the loud noises and shouting drawing their attention. Their voices were muffled by the loud music in the bar, but I could hear roughly what they were saying.

"You _bastard_!"

"It was one time, 'Yong."

" _Don't_ you _dare_ call me that. You don't _deserve_ to call me that!"

I began to walk towards them, with the intention of stopping the argument before it escalated, but suddenly, a muffled 'oooh' came from everyone behind me at the bar as T'yonga punched Jim straight in the nose. I ran up immediately, to the sound of applause from the bar, and grabbed T'yonga by the elbows, helping her to stand up. Jim was out cold on the table, and I left him there, dragging my friend from her chair instead.

"The bastard… the fucking bastard…" she kept muttering through tear-stained lips, "I knew it. He was fucking that other Orion. Must have a thing for green chicks…" She burst into a fresh set of tears, and I muttered what I hoped were reassuring things into her ear as I took her out of the bar and onto the street. She was drunk, _very_ drunk, and I was forced to use my whole substantial body weight to keep her upright. I hailed a taxi from the kerb, and helped her inside it, then followed suit.

"Student Block H7." I muttered to the taxi driver, who nodded and sped off.

"Make sure she doesn't throw up on my upholstery," he muttered to me, and I nodded at him, lifting T'yonga's head up.

I looked her straight in the eyes, her deep brown ones struggling to focus on my blues, and I held her face in mine, speaking very slowly and very clearly.

"James Kirk is an absolute arse, T'yonga. You don't deserve him. He's not even worth your tears, hun. You hear me?"

She nodded silently, tears still streaming down her green face.

"You're so lucky," she hiccoughed, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"No I'm not, T'y. No luckier than you," but she shook her head, adamant that I heard her speech.

"You don't attract the wrong kinds of men, Alex. You have self-respect, dignity. Look at me…" She gestured to herself, her short black dress stained with tears and alcohol.

"You are perfect exactly the way that you are. You don't need a guy to show you that, Yong." I wrapped my arms around her protectively as the cab drove on, "You're my best friend and I love you."

She sniffled slightly, getting a glob on snot on my black sweater, but I didn't care. She was hurting, and upset, and I needed to be there for her.

"I love you too, Alex, you stupid Brit."

I snorted at that, and smiled to myself as the taxi drove on past the blinking lights of the pubs and clubs near San Francisco Starfleet. James may have broken 'Yonga's heart, but I would be able to put it back together. That's what friends are for.

* * *

I woke up with a stale taste in my mouth and a throbbing in my head. I was lying on the couch, T'yonga on her side on the floor. I couldn't remember an awful lot from last night, but dragging my catatonic friend up six flights of stairs definitely stuck in my head. I had been so exhausted when I had finally reached the summit that I'd just collapsed onto the sofa and fallen fast asleep. I checked the time on my watch, 08:35, and grimaced to myself. I had roughly five minutes before I needed to leave the house. I pushed myself up from the couch, pulling my fingers through my knotty hair. I didn't have time for a shower, so settled on wrangling the thick strands into a plait down my left shoulder, pulling last night's clothes off and walking to my bedroom in my underwear.

I rooted through my drawers, looking for a pair of my trusty black skinny jeans, but couldn't find any. I checked in T'yonga's wardrobe, and in the bathroom, but without any luck. Typical. They were probably in the wash.

With an irritated sigh that was a little too loud to be respectable, I grabbed one of the hated blue dresses and threw it over my head, tugging it down to try to get it to come slightly lower than my upper thighs, with no luck. I shrugged on my black boots and gave my mouth a once-over with mouthwash to get the taste of stale alcohol out of my mouth, before grabbing my satchel and leaving the flat, shutting the door quietly on my way out.

I reached Starfleet just in time for my first lecture, and settled in next to Pierre for two hours of liver function theory.

The lesson dragged on, despite the constant, rather amusing, quips from the Frenchman sat next to me. My sense of anxiety and worry grew through the day, and by the time that it reached four O'clock, my hands were shaking with adrenaline. I had a very bad feeling about this meeting.

At five to four, I knocked on the Professor's door, my hands clammy. There was a pause of roughly twenty seconds, which seemed almost like an eternity, before I heard his steely familiar voice.

"Enter."

I opened the door and walked in. He was sat at his desk, as always, a stack of booklets beside him, his computer open. I silently closed the door and walked towards the desk, sitting down in the chair opposite him, the tension in the room almost palatable. Very slowly, very purposefully, he closed the lid of his computer and looked directly at me, his eyes _too_ dark, _too_ intense.

"I assume that you know why I have called you here today, Cadet Birchwood."

His voice sent a jolt of fear down my spine. It was icy, without any warmth or familiarity. His use of my surname proved to me that he was pissed, very pissed.

"I…" I stuttered, unsure of what to say, "Um… I'm not sure, Sir."

His eyebrows raised in mock-surprise at my answer, and he opened his computer again, silently, scrolling with his mouse and clicking on something, before turning it around to face the screen to me.

My blood ran cold.

On the screen was a mirage of green numbers, letters and symbols. A mess of data that would have meant nothing to most people, but meant the world to me. The Kobayashi Maru subroutine code.

"I will ask you again, Cadet." He continued, steely, "I assume that you know why I have called you here today?"

"Sir-"The response caught in my throat and I choked on it, my palms sweating more and more. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, struggling to break free. This was it, this was the end of my career.

"A person with great intelligence hacked this code, Cadet." Spock continued, almost casually, ignoring my discomfort. I struggled to prevent the small burst of pride entering my gut at his words, "But they failed to do one very important thing."

He pierced me with a look that went straight through me.

"And what is that, Sir?" I asked, my voice shaking. I was sure that I had cleared every trace of my identity form the subroutine.

"They failed to take me into account." He said simply, snapping the lid of the laptop shut in front of me, making me blink. I didn't understand him.

"Who else would have solved the whole base code first, instead of doing it bit by bit?" He asked me, his voice raising. I could see his hand on the desk, clenched into a fist, the veins sticking out, "Who else would have been smart enough to solve the entire _code_ , but distracted enough to divide a goddamn _two digit number wrong_?"

The emotion in his voice scared me. He was a Vulcan. He was supposed to be purged of all of this, but instead, he was almost yelling at me, the look on his face more furious than I had ever seen.

"What?" I asked, confused with the last part of his statement.

"You couldn't subroute the beginning of the simulation, could you?" He asked, his eyes boring into mine, his chest rising and falling with his even breaths, "That's because you divided twelve by three and got _five_ , Birchwood."

"Shit." I muttered. I _knew_ that I had gone wrong in my calculations somewhere.

He raised his eyebrows at my language, and I felt my heart plummet. Well, if he wasn't sure that it was me before, he certainly was now. That was as much of an admission of guilt as I could have given.

"How could you be so _fucking_ stupid, Alex?" He asked me, and my heart stopped at the pain in his voice. I'd never heard a Vulcan swear before, never knew that it was even _possible_.

"I…"

He slammed his fist on the desk, causing me to jump in my seat, my heart in my throat.

"What were you _thinking?_ Were you thinking at all?"

I couldn't move, frozen to my spot. He was acting different, _human_ , and I didn't know what to think.

Suddenly, he pushed his chair out from the desk and stood up, looming over me, all 6'2" of him glaring down at me with a mixture of fury and something else just as potent that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He stalked around the desk until he came to stand beside me, his shadow covering the desk in front of me. My heart was hammering in my chest, my breath coming thick and fast.

I took a deep breath in, and said in a shaky voice, "I guess this is goodbye, then."

I looked up at him, and his eyebrow quirked in confusion.

"What do you mean, Cadet?" He asked.

"Once the council finds out about this, that's it." I explained, "I'm done. Finished."

He walked away from me, his hands behind his back.

"Stand up, Cadet."

"Wha-"

"I said stand up."

I pushed my chair out, standing on shaky legs. I steadied myself on the desk. If I was going to leave, I was going to leave with dignity. I turned around, and was shocked to find him so close to me, less than a meter away. I had to strain my neck to look into his face, he was so tall.

"The council isn't going to find out about this, Alex." He said, and then it was _my_ turn to look confused.

"But, but you just said that you knew it was me-"

"I'm not going to tell the Council, Alex. My evidence has, by now, been destroyed by Leonard McCoy."

I took a step backwards, the backs of my knees connecting with my chair.

"You're not… why?" I asked, more confused than ever. If there was one thing that Vulcans insisted on, it was following rules to the letter, so why on earth was he breaking them for me?

He sighed and ran his hand over his jawline.

"I didn't want to lose you, Alex."

Oh.

Well.

I was shocked to say the least.

"What?"

He sighed, a broken sound.

"I thought that I could do it. I thought that I could stay away from you, be your friend, but then you come in in that _fucking dress_."

His eyes left my eyes and hungrily roamed over my torso, and I felt my face flush crimson. He tore his eyes away from my legs and shook his head imperceptibly.

I took a deep breath and stepped forwards, closer to him, and I saw the slight tint of green on his ears as he flushed with embarrasement as he realised what he had just said. At my movement, he stepped forwards as well, until we were chest to chest, toe to toe.

"Maybe it's time we stopped trying to stay away from each other," I said, surprising myself with my confidence. A tiny smirk of a smile skittered across his top lip, and before he could say anything in response, I stood on my tiptoes and crushed my lips to his. He was taken aback by my forwardness, but responded enthusiastically, grabbing my face with his hands, his cold fingers stroking my cheeks. He took a step forwards, pushing his tongue through my lips, mixing his hot breath with mine. The scent of him was everywhere, pines and smoke, and I revelled in it. My knees hit the back of the chair and he broke this kiss, breathing heavily. He picked up the chair with one hand, tossing it carelessly aside, pushing his lips back on mine as I heard it crash into a filing cabinet. He pushed my back further, until I was against the wooden desk, and he picked me up, his strong hands on my waist, sitting me down on the desk. He stood in between my legs, one hand in my hair and one on my bare thigh, drawing circles with his thumb. I couldn't help the small moan that it drew from me, and I felt him smile, pushing me back down onto the desk, his fingers toying with the hem of my too-shirt dress.

I let out a small moan and a low vibration came from his chest. His hand was on the inside of my thigh now, his index finger lazily tracing spirals on the sensitive skin. He was straddling me, and I flushed red as I easily felt just how much my body was affecting him. His lips never left mine, angrily possessive. This was different from last time, he wasn't holding back. His hand left my thigh and I was slightly embarrassed to hear the whine that came from my mouth. He smiled into the kiss and murmured in a voice that dripped honey.

"Be patient, T'hy'la."

I didn't have time to wonder what he had called me, because all of a sudden, his mouth was on my neck, his warm lips sucking on a spot that made me buck my hips. I wrapped my legs around him, and he held onto my thigh with strong fingers, continuing his ministrations on my neck.

"Spock…" I muttered, and he froze, his mouth somewhere just underneath my ear.

"Say that again." He whispered, his hot breath tickling my earlobe.

"Spock…" I repeated, threading my hands through the hair at the base of his neck. He bucked his hips, his hands everywhere, his mouth slowly moving its way back to mine. He broke off the kiss, leaving me panting, his lips and face flushed.

"Can I try something?" He croaked, breathing heavily.

"What?" I asked, my heart still thudding through my shirt.

He smiled and placed his fingers to my head, one resting just under my chin, and one on my temple. This was definitely not what I had had in mind when he offered to try something.

"It's called a mind-meld." He explained through shaky breaths, "It's a Vulcan thing."

I let out a small chuckle, and placed my hand on his, over my face. He stiffened at the contact.

"Yes. Do it." I said, surprisingly sure. This seemed right, despite the hastiness and confusion of the situation.

He smiled at me, a real smile with teeth and lips and eye-wrinkles, and then everything went black.

I saw everything. Every single moment. Every time the bullies had teased him as a child, every disapproving glance from his father or kind word from his mother. I saw the Vulcan High Council, looking down at him with a mixture of disgust and pity as he told them that he wanted to go to Starfleet.

And I saw _me_. I saw me that first day, gossiping to T'yonga about Vulcans, I saw me in class, forgetting my calculator, turning up late. And I saw me _smiling_ , smiling so much it looked like my face would burst. Smiling at him, at T'yonga, at Jim Kirk, smiling in the photo that I had accidentally sent him at Christmas, so long ago. My smile plagued his thoughts, and under all the confusion and anger and hurt was a sense of _warmth_ and _rightness_ that flowed through every touch, every whisper like blood through veins.

When he broke the meld, he was panting, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, his ears well and truly past the point of green. I took a deep breath.

"Wow…" I muttered, and he laughed. A real laugh that almost broke my heart in two it was so beautiful.

"Wow." He agreed, smiling down at me.

His hand other hand came up, so he was effectively cupping my face.

"I could live a thousand lifetimes and never find anyone like you." He muttered, so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

Our silence was interrupted by the door bursting open, a bedraggled looking Leonard McCoy walking in, carrying a pile of papers so large that his arms were shaking under the weight of it.

"I've got these for you, Pointy- Holy fuck."

Spock scrambled off me ungracefully, and I almost fell of the desk in my attempt to upright myself.

"Damn it Leonard, you really know how to time your entrances." Spock muttered as he took the papers off McCoy, refusing to make eye contact. There was a cheeky grin on Leonard's face that he was trying desperately to hide. Spock placed the papers on the table, as I hopped off it, smoothing the wrinkles out of my dress.

"Extra-curricular, Treebeard?" He asked me, and I struggled not to punch him directly in the nose.

"One more word, Bones, and the next torso on my dissection table is going to be yours."

I grabbed my bag from under the desk and took another look at the chair that Spock had thrown aside in a moment of reckless abandon. It had smashed into the filing cabinet with such force that a leg had fallen off it. I was blushing crimson, and refused to meet Leonard's eye.

"I should be going…" I muttered, glancing at Spock. A small twitch of a grin escaped his mouth, and I turned to go, trying to get my breathing back to normal. I got a wink from Leonard, to which I valiantly didn't put up my middle finger to. When I reached the door of the office, I glanced once again at Spock. He was still flushed green, his hair dishevelled and his blue shirt creased.

His eyes looked deeply into mine, and I had no difficulty translating what they said.

 _To be continued._

* * *

REVIEW LADS PLZ PLZ PLZ I LIVE FOR IT

YOU WILL MAKE MY LIFE


	25. A Culmination of Sorts

AHA I'M BACK

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR ALL THE LOVELY REVEIWS. KEEP 'EM COMING. Also as a warning, the M rating comes into this a bit at the end. I've tried my best to keep it relatively classy, but be warned. I invested my friend Ruth's help for the end of this, becasue what ar efriends for if not helping other friends write Star Trek porny fanfics. Thanks Ruth. This one goes out to you.

Also, as requested, you guys get to see more of Alex's badassery in this chapter. Hope you enjoy x

* * *

Vulcan food was incredibly bland.

Of course, I wasn't about to tell that to Spock, who seemed perfectly happy eating his boiled mollusc, but as I dragged my spoon through the clear thin Plomeek broth on the table in front of me, I couldn't help but wish that I had ordered something with slightly more flavour. Despite the constant assurance from Spock that this was not a date, and merely a 'meeting of associates', I had tried my best to put effort into my appearance. The white silk shirt that I was wearing accentuated the curves of my torso well, and I had even gone as far as to pair the tight black trousers that I had donned with a pair of heels. My hair was, as usual, styled in a thick plait down my left shoulder, but the few curls that framed my cheeks softened my face. I was pleased to say that I looked pretty good. Spock was wearing his blue Starfleet shirt, obviously not as concerned about his appearance as me.

During the meal, unsurprisingly, Spock had discussed nothing but work, mentioning my exams and advising me on revision techniques. Not what I would call the most romantic of discussions, but I was enjoying the evening nonetheless. It wasn't like there was anything else that I would have been doing on a Saturday night. It was a surprise when I had received his email, asking if I would like to visit 'The Red Planet', the only Vulcan restaurant in the area, but it was turning out to be a pretty nice evening. T'yonga had given me a lift here in her car, before heading off for the night, and despite the blandness of the food, the conversation really had been quite stimulating.

He hadn't mentioned the mind-meld once, obviously. Neither had I. After Thursday's _incident_ , neither of us had directly spoken about it. I had spent my Friday evening, as usual, marking papers for fourth years with him, but apart from the interruption of the offer of a cup of tea after half an hour, we had spent the time in comfortable silence. I couldn't help but feel like we would have to talk eventually, though.

"What do you think of your soup, Alex?"

I coughed, struggling for something to say. The soup basically tasted like warm water.

"Um, yeah. It's, uh, it's great. Thanks."

His eyebrow quirked up slightly and I knew that he could see straight through my lie. The corner of his mouth lifted, but he quickly regained his passive facial expression as a Vulcan waiter walked past.

"Not quite your cup of tea?"

I snorted at the joke, referencing the first time that he had tasted a cup of tea, with me in his office. He hadn't liked it very much. I got a dirty look from a Vulcan by my side, and covered my mouth with my hand, hiding my smile. The restaurant was full of Vulcans, and I had to remember to keep my emotions to myself. Spock gave me a strange look, and placed his cutlery on his empty plate, leaning forwards towards me from the other side of the table.

"Never think that you have to hide your smile from me, Alex."

I removed my hand from my face, "What about from the others?"

He rolled his eyes at my question, "I don't care what they think."

The truth in his voice resonated with me. He was absolutely positive. He wasn't bothered about the odd looks that we, a Vulcan and a human sharing a meal, were getting. He didn't appear to be bothered by the irritated glances that were shot at me each time I smiled or laughed. He was just happy to be in my company, and that knowledge made me feel a lot better.

Spock paid for the cheque, dismissing my offer to recompense him with a joking, "When you're earning a doctor's salary, you can pay for everything."

I managed to hide my smile from the Vulcan waiter, who dismissed us both with a curt, "Live long and prosper," and we walked out into the chilly Saturday air. For a Saturday night, the streets were surprisingly deserted, only the occasional jogger or drunken cadet stumbling past us. I assumed that everyone was at home, studying for finals, which were coming up fast. I didn't mind the quiet, though, contentedly walking alongside Spock down the sidewalk.

"Are you sure you're warm enough, Cadet?" He asked, the concern in his voice surprising me. I nodded, smiling at his formality. For a guy who basically dry-humped me on a desk two days ago, I would think that he wouldn't have any difficulty in referring to me by my first name.

"Yeah I'm fine."

It was a lie, of course. The thin white blouse that I was wearing did nothing to protect me from the chill in the night air, but I wasn't ready to admit that to him. He nodded, accepting my answer, but the small quirk at the corner of his lip told me that he knew that I wasn't telling the truth. He didn't want to dent my pride, however, so continued walking in silence. His legs, so much longer than mine, strode confidently through the dark streets, causing me to almost jog in my attempt to catch up with him.

We walked in silence for a while, the only noise being the steady slapping of our feet on the cobbled pavement and the occasional hoot of a lost owl, who probably wanted to be in a forest but instead had found itself in the middle of suburban San Fransisco.

"You don't need to walk me home, Spock-" I began, but he cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

"I don't want another Matthew Jacobson issue." I didn't fail to notice the slightly strained tone in his voice as he mentioned Matthew, the Cadet who had tried to assault me, oh so long ago, and who had since been expelled from Starfleet. His hands, still clasped behind his back as he walked, clenched slightly stronger at the memory.

I let the matter drop, and suddenly froze, stopping in my tracks.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, and Spock turned around to look at me, confusion on his face.

"I don't hear anyth-"

"Shhh." I brought a finger to my lips, listening again for the small grunt that I had been _sure_ that I had heard, not even phased by the fact that I had just 'shush'ed a superior officer.

There it was again, a tiny, but definitely there, grunt of pain. I knew from the look on Spock's face that he had heard it as well. He walked back towards me, his eyebrows knotted together, trying to decipher the source of the noise. It was probably a dog stuck in a grate, or something of that ilk, but I was determined to help it.

We stood in silence for a second, before the noise came again, and Spock's eyes darted to the left down a small alleyway. I squinted my eyes, adjusting them to the darkness, and began to make out a small lump curled up on the floor.

I sighed, "Probably a dog," I muttered, and walked down the alley, quickly followed by Spock.

As I neared the lump, however, it became apparent to me that it was not a dog.

Not at all.

"Fuck." I muttered to myself, and Spock looked at me in shock at the language. I ran up to the lump, which was looking more and more like a body, and crouched down. The pale face of an unconscious man looked back at me. He was older than me, about fourty by the looks of it, his black hair beginning to grey slightly at the sides.

"It's a guy, Spock. It's a person."

His eyebrows raised in shock, and he immediately crouched down next to me, as I struggled to remove the man's thick duffel jacket, getting ready to perform CPR. I unzipped the jacket and pulled it from his body, my hands coming away black and sticky.

"Fuck fuck fuck. He's bleeding."

I could feel the heat of Spock next to me, his breathing heavy. I felt at the base of the man's throat, his pulse fluttering lightly between my fingers.

"He's alive, Spock. He's alive. I think he's been stabbed."

Spock mumbled something in Vulcan next to me, something that didn't sound very polite, and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling 911.

"Ambulance please,-"

I drowned out his voice as I struggled with the buttons on the man's white shirt, which was now more the colour of crimson. I ended up giving up with the buttons, ripping the fabric with my hands instead. His chest was covered in a thin sheen of blood, and it didn't take me long to find the entry wound, a small cut on his chest, a few inches below his collarbone, only a few inches across, but very deep. Thick blood was pouring out like water from a pipe, and I struggled to compress the wound with shaking hands.

"The ambulance will be eight minutes," Spock's voice came from behind me, "What do you think happened to him?"

"He was mugged, they took his wallet." I answered, balling his soaking wet shirt up into the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, "They've missed his heart, by a few centimetres by the looks of it. He was lucky, he might live through this."

I sighed in frustration and threw his shirt to the side. It was too wet, it wasn't absorbing anything, and it certainly wasn't working as a stopper for the flow. I looked over at Spock, his face pale.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Your shirt, Spock. Take it off."

His eyes widened at my words, and he looked at me with an expression of shock and confusion.

"Alex, this is neither the time nor the place-"

"To _absorb the blood_ , Spock."

He flushed green as he understood, and nodded silently, pulling his blue shirt off and handing it to me. I tried not to stare at his toned chest. For a guy who seemed so lean, he sure packed a fair bit of muscle. I bundled the shirt up in my hands and stuffed it into the wound.

The man moaned, and I glanced over at his pale face. His eyelids fluttered.

"Can you hear me? Hey? Can you hear me? What's your name?" I asked, trying anything to get him to stay conscious, but he slipped away again, closing his eyes. I looked over again at Spock, whose tanned skin appeared to be gleaming in the dull moonlight.

"Talk to him."

"I don't unders-"

"Fucking talk to him. Ask him about his family, his favourite colour, I don't give a shit, just keep him conscious."

He nodded, walking around me and crouching beside the man's face.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me, you're alright. We've got you."

Despite the dire circumstances, I couldn't help the small jolt in my stomach at Spock's use of the word 'we've'. Collecting the two of us together as a single entity. I liked it.

He continued talking to the man, as I pressed harder down on the wound, my white shirt soaked through with blood. Where the hell was this goddamn ambulance?

The man fluttered his eyelids open again, and focused them on Spock, his pupils dilated.

"Suzanne?"

A deranged giggle slipped through my lips at the look on Spock's face. My hands were shaking so violently I was having trouble keeping the shirt in place, and I was 99% sure that I had gone into shock.

"No. I'm not Suzanne. My name is Commander Spock."

"Am I… am I dying?"

"Yes."

" _Spock_." I hissed angrily through gritted teeth, my hands slipping, but the flow of blood seeming to be slowing down, "Bedside manner, huh?"

"You might be dying," He continued, as the man struggled to keep his eyelids open, "But you're in good hands. Alex is a doctor. She knows what she's doing."

"Nearly," I muttered, "Nearly a doctor." But my heart beat a little stronger nonetheless. He had faith in me, he trusted me.

"The ambulance is going to be here soon, alright?" Spock's voice was harsh, like a parent who was getting annoyed with their child's tantrum, but the man was looking at him, and he was awake, so that was all that mattered.

"They… they took my wallet." The man continued, wincing slightly as I pressed down deeper on the wound.

"Don't worry about your wallet, buddy." I breathed out, "Worry about staying alive."

The sound of a siren in the distance reached my ears, and I couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief. I saw that Spock heard it, too, as his shoulders visibly relaxed. The ambulance was on its way.

"What's your name, mate?" I asked, still holding Spock's shirt over the wound firmly, my blouse now well and truly past the stage of being white.

"David-"

"Alright, David. Can you hear that? The ambulance is on its way. You'll be fine."

As soon as the words exited my mouth, his chest shook under my fingers, his entire body convulsing with a spasm. Shit.

"He's going into shock. Lift his legs up, Spock."

The Vulcan nodded at me, standing up and lifting David's legs, seemingly with ease. The sound of the ambulance drew nearer, and eventually the alleyway was filled with flashing blue and red lights. A paramedic ran up to us, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"What happened?"

"Puncture would in the left side of his torso, by the looks of it between the 2nd and 3rd ribs. Narrowly missed his heart, but he's been bleeding out for roughly ten minutes. I can't be sure without checking further, but I think he might have punctured an intercostal mammary artery. He's gone into shock, was responsive but by the looks of it is unconscious now. Irregular pulse, but his breathing is normal." I reeled off everything that I could, not taking my hands off the wound. I turned my head and looked at the paramedic, who was looking at me with an expression of surprise.

"You a medic?" He asked me, bending down to better assess the situation.

I giggled, a manic sound, I was definitely in shock, and looked at the paramedic. He had a young face, the ghost of a beard around his jawline. He was probably hoping for a relatively easy shift tonight, but that had all been blown out of the water once he had received a stabbing call.

"Med student." I replied, letting the paramedic take my place, holding Spock's shirt down tightly over the wound. He lifted the shirt and glanced under it, wincing.

"I think you may be right about the intercostal artery. This is bleeding a lot."

Two other paramedics soon joined us, and carefully placed the man onto a stretcher, carrying him away to the nearby ambulance.

"You've probably saved his life." The young paramedic said to me, patting me on the shoulder, "You did a great job, you should be proud of yourself."

I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak, and slid down the wall, sitting on the ground, my knees pulled up against my chest. I was breathing heavily, the hot blood covering my arms and face now cooling slightly in the chilly night air. The ambulance drove away, the distinctive sound of its siren getting quieter and quieter as it rushed the man to the hospital. I felt a presence beside me, as Spock sat next to me, leaning on the wall. I looked up at him, and his face was smattered with smudges of blood, his torso looking like a Jackson Pollock painting.

"Are you alright, Birchwood?" He asked me, his voice low. He was breathing heavily, his hair ruffled and messy, his bare chest rising and falling in the moonlight.

"I…" I choked on my own voice and coughed slightly, rubbing my face with the back of my hand, "I'm alright."

His hand raised, as if to place it on my shoulder, but he changed his mind and dropped it, letting it fall limply back into his lap. I looked down at my hands, the blood now beginning to dry, and turned back to Spock.

"Who's place is closer to here?"

He thought for a second, and answered quickly.

"Mine. By a good half hour."

I sighed and gestured to my now ruined shirt.

"Do you mind if I take a shower then go back to my place?" I asked. The scent of the blood clung to me like a second skin and I was anxious to get rid of it.

He smiled at me, and stood up, holding his hand out to pull me up. He helped me to stand, and promptly put his arm around my waist as I stumbled, my legs unsteady.

"Of course you can. Can you walk?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled his arm off me, " _I'm_ not the one who got stabbed, Spock. I can walk fine."

That was definitely a lie, as my feet tripped over each other roughly twice a minute as Spock walked me back to his apartment. My hands were shaking so badly that even clasping them together did nothing to stop the spasming. I could tell that he noticed, his eyes occasionally flicking to my clenched fingers, but he said nothing. I didn't fail to notice, however, the way that his hand stayed firmly on my waist the whole of the walk back, steadying me and making sure that I didn't fall. We got a few odd looks from people driving past. I supposed that a half-naked Vulcan and an almost paraplegic med student, both covered in blood and basically dragging one another along the side of the road, wasn't a very ordinary sight. By the time that we reached the teacher's lodgings, I was practically leaning on Spock, allowing myself to be dragged through the front doors and into the elevator, the exhaustion of dealing with the incident finally catching up to me.

I practically fell into his apartment, seriously regretting my choice of shoes. I kicked them off as soon as I entered, and as he locked the door behind us, I pulled my shirt off my body, wincing at the moist feeling of the blood clinging to my torso. I ignored the low clearing of a throat from behind me, and held up my shirt, looking at it with distaste. That thing cost me $20, and I was pretty sure that blood stains didn't come out of silk.

"Please don't put that on the couch. I just had it cleaned."

I snorted and looked behind me at Spock, rolling my eyes. I was planning on coming back with a sarcastic comment, but it stuck in my throat as I caught a glimpse of him. His black trousers hung low on his hips, the slight shadow of a V muscle at the base of his torso causing my mouth to go dry. His chest, splattered with droplets of blood, was lightly tanned, more toned than I had expected. His lips were slightly parted as he took me in, standing in my black trousers and grey bra with fucking butterflies printed on it.

"The… the shower is through there…" He muttered, drawing his eyes from my torso and pointing awkwardly towards the bathroom. I nodded in thanks and walked off, but before I could reach it, he coughed again, and I turned around questioningly.

"Are you alright, Alex?"

I sighed. No. I wasn't alright. My hands were shaking so much I was struggling to hold my blood-soaked shirt in my hands, and my heart was pounding so fast that it felt as if it was about to escape from my chest.

"I'm fine, Spock."

"You're not."

I sighed, and placed my blood-soaked shirt in the sink, walking towards him.

"Spock. I'm alright. I'm fine."

"You're as white as a ghost, Alex. Stop pretending that you're alright. You know you don't have to hide your emotions from me."

That took me by surprise. His obvious care for me. I rubbed my face with my hands, shaking my head, my breath coming fast.

"I'm gonna be a doctor, Spock." I muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "People's lives are going to be in my hands. I can't afford to panic, I can't afford to get scared. But look at me. I'm fucking _terrified."_

I looked up at him, and saw the shock in his eyes as he registered that I was crying, big fat teardrops running down my face. He almost instinctually took a step forwards, towering over me, his hand raised, almost as if to wipe the tears from my cheeks. He stopped himself just in time, however, dropping his hand back to his side.

"Alex…" His voice sounded almost choked, the heat from his bare chest, so close to mine, warming my body.

I shook my head, breaking the gaze, "So much fucking _blood_. I've seen more dead bodies than I can count, but this was different, it was so _violent_."

His hands were on my shoulders suddenly, and I snapped my gaze up to look at him, blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill over my eyelids. If I was going to be a doctor, this could never happen. I had thought that I was prepared for anything that the medical world could throw at me, but evidently, I was wrong.

"You did _great_ , Alex. Seriously. Amazing. You kept him alive, didn't you?"

"But I'm a mess, Spock. I very nearly didn't."

"But you _did_."

I rubbed my brow, accidentally smearing the blood from my hand over my forehead. I took a deep breath, and let it out in a huff, still shaking. Before I could comprehend what had happened, Spock's arms were around my torso, squeezing me so tightly that I struggled to breathe. His long fingers splayed against the bare skin of my back, and tentatively, I raised my own arms, wrapping them around him, burying my face in his chest.

We stayed like that for a good minute, breathing into each other, before Spock finally spoke, his chest rumbling with the vibrations.

"Am I doing this right?"

I snorted and looked up at him.

"What?"

"This is what humans do when they are upset, is it not? Hugging?"

I smiled to myself and shook my head, letting go of him and taking a step back.

"Yes. It is." I replied, rubbing my arms, already missing the feeling of warmth that came with his body, "Thank you."

He smiled at that, and nodded politely, "You are welcome."

"I should probably…" I pointed to the bathroom, becoming all too aware of the fact that we were both half naked and covered in somebody else's blood, "You know… shower."

He snorted out a small laugh at my awkwardness, "That would be a good idea." and walked over to the sink, picking up a towel and holding it under the faucet, before wiping his chest with it, cleaning the blood from himself. I struggled not to stare as his hands ran over his flat stomach, the water pooling in droplets at the curve of his hip bone. I tore my gaze away, breathing heavily, and wandered into his bathroom. It was much the same as my own, albeit a bit bigger. I peeled off my bra and pants, stepping into the shower and switching it on, revelling as the hot water washed the red liquid from my body.

The feeling of being clean calmed me down slightly, and after a few minutes, my hand had stopped shaking. Spock had little in the realm of toiletries, a small pot of Starfleet issue shower gel, but I had to make do. The scent of it surprised me, that musky, heady smell that was pure Spock. The scent of it caused a small pool of heat to cumulate in my stomach.

I didn't shower for long, simply washing the remnants of the blood off my skin, and staying in slightly longer than necessary in order to surround myself in that goddamn scent. I eventually stepped out, drying my hair roughly with a towel, before wrapping it around me, padding out of the bathroom in my bare feet, heading back to the kitchen, where Spock was waiting.

The towel clung to my oversensitive skin and chafed a little as I walked, but that was the last thing on my mind. I wasn't ashamed to say that the thing that was taking up most of my thoughts was sat on the couch, now fully clothed, his legs splayed out in front of him, resting on the coffee table. He glanced up at me as I walked in, and I didn't fail to notice the slight raise of his eyebrows in appreciation as his gaze flickered over my body, which was only very sparsely covered with a Starfleet standard issue white towel. He cleared his throat awkwardly, dragging his gaze away from me and focusing instead on his hands, which were clasped tightly together on his lap.

"Would you mind if I borrowed a shirt?" I asked, trying anything to break the silence. I couldn't help but remember that the last time we had been together in his room, things had escalated very quickly. "My... well... I think there's a chance that I would give T'yonga a heart attack if I turned up on the doorstep covered in blood."

He nodded at me, pushing himself up off the couch and walking towards his bedroom, facing away from me. My gaze ran appreciatively down his back as he walked away, unashamedly settling on his arse, which, if I do say so myself, was very nice indeed. He froze to the spot where he was standing as I looked at him, all movement stopped.

"Alex, do you remember the mind-meld I initiated with you previously?" he asked, his voice strained. Was he really going to do this now? Couldn't he at least wait until I was fully clothed and had a nice cup of tea inside me before we had a heart to heart. My hair was still wet at the ends, and droplets of water ran down my back, causing me to shiver.

"Of course, what about it?" Where was he going with this? He suddenly turned around and answered my question for me. Spock's brown eyes were blown wide, practically colourless, and there was a bright green blush high on his cheeks. His chest was heaving with powerful breaths and a sudden burst of feelings that were 100% _not mine_ coursed through my body. Confusion, guilt, pain, but more than anything, _want,_ flowed through my veins like fire as he looked at me. I took a shaky breath in, and he raised an eyebrow.

"We're connected, Alex. Like it or not. What you feel, I feel, and vice versa, so could you _PLEASE_ try to control your emotions."

I had never seen him look so broken, barely holding himself together. His chest was heaving under his blue shirt, and I could see his hands, clenched into fists, literally shaking as he struggled to control himself. My heart was in my mouth, and I was positive that it had nothing to do with the man we had found in the street, and everything to do with the fact that Spock was looking at me like a starving man would look at a steak. I took a step forwards, almost involuntarily, and he followed suit, bridging the gap between us until we were chest to chest. I was suddenly all too conscious of my lack of proper attire. His hand raised and I thought for a second that he would drop it back to his side, as he so often did, always keeping control of himself, but to my surprise, he instead placed his hand on my shoulder. His fingers spanned, covering my bare skin, and goosebumps rose on my arms that had nothing to do with our temperature difference. With his index finger, he trailed a line down my arm, light as a feather, until he reached my palm, drawing circles on the soft skin.

"Now that I think about it, Alex," he said, the calmness in his voice almost intimidating, "you probably won't be needing a shirt."

The corner of his lip quirked up, and he took another step forwards, pushing me back slightly. His lips, instead of going for mine, as I had expected, instead veered away from my face to the curve of my neck. He began tracing a pattern that I couldn't even comprehend on my overheated skin with his mouth and tongue and teeth and fingers. He was feather-light in his ministrations, infuriatingly so, and I couldn't help but take a small intake of breath as he threaded his hands through my wet hair, his mouth making its way down my arm to my wrist, trapping the pulse there with his tongue. He looked up at me, a smile in his eyes, his mouth still attached to me, and my breath stuttered at the expression on his face. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes seem almost black. At this moment, I had absolutely _no_ trouble believing that he wasn't all human.

"Spock..." I gasped as his tongue traced down the palm of my hand until it reached the tip of my middle finger and he sucked it delicately into his mouth. My knees went weak. I had read about Vulcan erogenous zones in my studies, knew that the hands were so sensitive that in some Vulcan circles, it was forbidden to even _show_ them, so the look of lust on Spock's face as he continued his ministrations went straight to the fire that was already spreading through my gut. Spock, the absolute _pillar_ of Vulcan restraint, was performing an act so _filthy_ to my hands that it was probably Vulcan taboo.

A quiet choked voice echoed through my head, ' _Ever since you came into my office, that very first time, I've wanted to do this. Wanted to know what these hands would feel like. You remember, don't you? The way that you had splayed your fingers out on my desk, unaware of the effect that you were having on me?'_

I took a sharp intake of breath, and looked down at Spock, but his mouth hadn't moved. He had spoken _inside my head_. Through the bond that we now shared. For some reason, this knowledge pushed me over the edge and I threw my head back, albeit a little dramatically, letting out a low moan.

"This is better than I expected." The voice came from Spock, whose mouth had left my hand, and was now back in the crook of my neck, his teeth grazing my ear. This time I was the one who brought my lips to meet him and I wrapped my smaller and warmer hands around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss that boarded on almost violent. He pulled me backwards, and my face flushed red as I realised where we were going.

The bedroom.

On our way I was divested of my towel, and I pulled his shirt over his head with a strength that surprised me. We walked, clumsily, our lips never leaving each others, crashing into one another in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

He pushed me back onto the bed with a force that surprised me, and wasted no time in straddling my chest, his hands trailing lightning touches down my torso, causing me to gasp.

' _I've wanted this for so long. Wanted to know how you would feel, how you would taste. Wanted to see you come apart by my hand.'_

I was struggling to breathe as he spoke into my head, his mouth angry and posessive. His hands trailed lower, until suddenly, he stopped, breaking the kiss and looking down at me, his face concerned.

"Alex. If I start this, it's unlikely that I'll be able to stop."

I sat up on my elbows, looking at him in confusion.

"What?"

"I need to make sure that you're alright with this. Vulcan sex is…" He struggled for a word to use, looking almost embarrassed, "It's messy."

I rolled my eyes at his worry, and pulled him in for another kiss, tasting the anticipation on his tongue.

"I'm good with messy." I muttered into his pointed ear, grazing the sensitive skin with my teeth. He grunted in response, and enthusiastically continued the kiss, pushing me back down on the bed, the weight of him on top of me heavy, but not unpleasant. As his hand travelled lower, and I grabbed the sheets tightly in both my hands, his lips travelled to my ear, his voice straining, raw.

"T'hy'la."

We didn't last for long. The combined sensations of both of our emotions was too much for either of us to handle, and when we both came to completion, a mass of panting limbs and sweaty breaths, we stayed in silence for a few minutes. I winced when he climbed off me, and he looked at me in concern, his face worried.

"I hurt you." I was a statement rather than a question, and I shook my head, rolling onto my side to look at him, "You're hurt, Alex."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, my breath slowly returning to normal.

"It's a good hurt." I explained, a smile on my face, "Like I just ran a marathon or something..."

He snorted out a burst of laughter. "Humans and their similies."

I shuffled over to him, resting my head on his sweaty chest, and his fingers ran gently through my hair, seperating the knots in it absent-mindedly.

"I guess we can say goodbye to 'just friends." His chest rumbled with his voice, and I let out a snort of laughter, raising my head to kiss him once again, the taste of sweat and lust and contentement.

"I guess we can."

* * *

FUKIN FINALLY MUAHAHAHAA THERE WE GO YE SS S. (Sorry for not going into great detail in teh sex scene, but I know that there are a few younger people reading this (and also i suck at writing smut real talk)). (Also, for those of you who don't know, 'T'hy'la is a Vulcan word for 'loved one'. :)


	26. Pour One Out for the Sinners

AHHA YOU GUYS DIDN'T THINK I WAS GONNA LEAVE YOU WITH BLUE BALLS AFTER THAT LAST CHAPTER DID YOU?

HERE COMETH THE SIN!

(OK so basically I know that some people don't like to read smut, so this chapter is of what really happened 'last night', and I'd you don't want to read it, feel free to skip it and turn up to the next chapter instead.)

Now jump on the NSFW boat, brought to you by:

Me: Sin Captain of the Seven Seas

Ruth: My trusty and reliable Sin First Mate.

Alright I'll stop blabbering, on with the story.

"T'hy'la."

His voice was raw, full of a powerful emotion I couldn't discern, and as he pressed his body into mine, I could feel how affected he was by me. His hands were everywhere, running over my breasts and my stomach, tangled in my hair. His mouth latched to my neck, sucking and biting, and I recalled the memory of him marking me, the last time. His voice, strong and clear, invaded my mind once more. There was only one thing he was thinking.

 _'Mine.'_

I keened, bucking my hips up to meet him, and I felt him smile. He splayed his long fingers across the smooth skin of my hips, so close to the friction that was building in my core it was almost unbearable.

 _'Patience.'_

"Fucking hell, Spock." I gasped, as his fingers travelled lower, inching closer to the fire between my thighs, "Will you bloody hurry up?"

He chuckled at that, the vibration from his chest sending my heart thumping into an erratic rhythm. He gave the bite on my neck one final lick, before moving his mouth downwards to my collarbone. I was breathing hard, my chest rising and falling in gasps as his lips went lower, grazing the top of my bare breast. I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling tightly, and he groaned at the sensation.

"You're so beautiful." He muttered, so low I could barely hear it, as his lips continued to descend, past my navel and into unexplored territory, "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do this. Even on that first day, when you came in late-"

I snorted at the memory, but my laughter was quickly replaced by a choked gasp as his mouth reached the inside of my thigh, leaving small bite marks on the pale flesh.

"I wanted to take you," he continued in between bites, "Teach you a lesson."

Fuck. I hadn't prepared myself for dirty talk, hadn't even thought him capable of it. I was slightly embarrassed by how wet it made me feel. My hips bucked again, and he held them down with strong fingers, not letting me budge an inch. The burning between my thighs was almost painful now, and I reached my hand behind my head to grab the headboard, steadying myself.

"Would you just fucking do it already?"

I had tried to make my voice sound annoyed, but the breathy break at the end of my sentence threw that plan out of the window. He exhaled a snort of laughter, the warmth of his breath in between my thighs making me groan unabashedly. He muttered something that sounded a lot like, 'humans...', and before I could respond, his mouth was on me, and my vision exploded in stars. The rough pad of his tongue languidly circled the small bundle of nerves at the apex of my things, and the noise that came out of my mouth was far from civilised.

' _Fuck, you taste so good._ '

Everything was too much. His voice in my head, his mouth between my thighs, the feeling of the pads of his fingers bruising the skin on my stomach, pressing down so hard it they were sure to leave marks. I wrapped my legs around his head, throwing my head back. Where the _fuck_ had he learnt how to do this? I could feel a smug sense of pride exude from him through our mental bond as he began to comprehend what an effect he was having on me. I wondered for a split second if he could feel what I was feeling, as well as vice versa. The tight bulge in the front of his pants told me that yes, yes he could.

I came with a shout, my legs shaking and sweat running down my face, breath coming fast, hands fisted in his now wet sheets. He placed a kiss on my thigh, directly over a sensitive bite mark, and leaned up on his elbows, looking far too smug with himself for his own good.

"Was that satisfactory?"

 _Satisfactory?_ Here I was, basically falling to pieces under his touch, and he's worried if what he's doing is satisfactory?

"Fuck off." I muttered, and he chuckled, unbuckling his belt and sliding his black trousers off, throwing them in a heap on the floor, clambering back up the bed until he was hovering over me again, his hands placed either side of my head. His expression turned concerned.

"You're sure that you're alright with this, Alex?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you serious?"

"It's going to hurt."

It was a positive statement, with no room for misinterpretation. Yes. It was definitely going to hurt. I tried to bring my mind back to three years ago, during a lesson on Vulcan sexuality. Love-making was possessive, as much about marking a mate as gaining any gratification. I looked up at Spock, a smile on my face.

"Bring it on."

Now it was _his_ turn to roll his eyes, a low chuckle coming deep from his throat. Whilst he was distracted, I hooked his knee with the back of my leg, flipping us over so I was straddling him. His eyes widened in surprise at my actions, and he lifted his hand to my face, bringing it down to kiss him again, heady and strong. Incredibly clumsily, he shuffled out of his underwear, throwing them out of the bed to join the trousers that were crumpled up in the corner of the room. I snorted in laughter, and he looked up at me, confused.

"Now who's the impatient one?" I asked, a glint in my eye. He lifted his hand to my face, stroking the side of my mouth as I grinned.

"Your smile is like the sun to me."

"You should write poetry, do you know that?"

He snorted, and took my distraction as a way to flip me back over, so I was on my back. He entered me in one swift motion, and _damn_ he was right about it hurting. I winced slightly, and he looked me in the eye, his hand in my hair.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was broken, and I smiled up at him.

"It's ok. I'm ok."

He nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

' _Fuck. You feel so good… so….'_

His voice broke up in my head as he moved, the words mumbling together. He brought his face to my neck, his sharp teeth leaving tattoos on my pale skin. His left hand was cupping my breast, his right making its way to my temple, getting in a formation that I knew all too well. He looked down at me, a question, and I nodded silently and closed my eyes.

The mind meld was different this time, _closer_ almost. Spock's mind was a garbled mess, and I could see just how hard he was trying to hold himself together. I could f _eel_ everything that he felt, and sharp stabs of pleasure mingled with the pain, causing me to gasp out his name. The warmth of his mind couldn't be ignored. It glowed a rose-gold, confusion and pleasure and heat and light and, more than anything, a deep sense of _love_ that encompassed everything. It wasn't long before he came, gasping my name like an exclamation, before limply flopping down on top of me like a wet fish. Not the most romantic of imagery, perhaps. We stayed like that for a while, combined, neither of us speaking, neither of us feeling the need to. Everything that needed to be said had been.

He loved me. And I was pretty sure I loved him.

When he finally pushed himself off me, I let out a slight wince of pain, and the look on his face was all concern.

"I hurt you." I wasn't a question, "You're hurt, Alex."

I rolled onto my side, looking at him, his face blushing green with the exertion, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. The neat, immaculately presented Commander was nowhere to be seen. I smiled.

"It's a good hurt. Like I just… ran a marathon or something."

He chuckled.

"Humans and their similes."

I let out a snort of laughter at that, shuffling over to him and laying my head on his chest, the steady beat of his heartbeat in my ear.

"I guess we can say goodbye to 'just friends'." He murmured, and I smiled, leaning up to plant a firm kiss on his mouth. He tasted of exhaustion and contentment.

"I guess we can."


	27. Student-Teacher Protocol

YOOOOOOO IM BACK

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS CHAPTER (please send me a reveiw if you do x)

* * *

The first thing that I noticed as my groggy mind began to grasp sense of its surroundings was the warmth. I was slightly _too_ warm, the prickling of sweat on my forehead bringing me out of my deep sleep. I was lying on my back, my dark hair splayed out around my head like a halo, the light that was sneaking in through the gap in the curtains tickling my closed eyelids.

I was immensely comfortable, save for the dull throbbing ache that seemed to run through my limbs.

The second thing that I noticed was the heavy weight draped across my stomach.

My eyelids fluttered open, and I smothered a monstrous yawn as I glanced downwards at the mystery object lying on my torso.

It was a bare arm. Which was connected to a bare torso. Which was connected to the sleeping face of my Maths Professor, only inches from mine, his warm breath tickling my neck. Well that explained the temperature increase. Of course, how could I possibly forget the events of last night?

I shuffled slightly onto my side so I was facing him, our noses almost touching. His face looked different when he was sleeping, the stern lines that all too often lined it had smoothed out, so his perpetually grumpy face looked calm and serene. His always neat hair was sticking up in all directions, a black crown on top of his pale face. I couldn't help the small smile that crept up the side of my mouth as I took in every inch of him. His eyelashes were surprisingly long, thick and dark, almost brushing his cheeks when his eyes were closed. My eyes ran over the broad curve of his jawline, the soft line of his lips. He had a trio of freckles just above his left collarbone.

I stayed like that for an embarrassingly long time, trying to drink him in, surrounding myself with him. After a while, his eyelids fluttered open, and he jumped slightly in shock when he noticed how close I was too him, his brown eyes seeming flecked with gold in the morning light in the morning light. I snorted at his reaction, and he smiled, sitting up and running his hand through his tousled hair, so far from the exquisite immaculacy that he usually exuded that I nearly laughed. I pulled the covers up to my neck, rolling back onto my back and looking up at him, a smile on my face.

"How do you feel?"

His voice was throaty and low after the long night's sleep, and I rolled my eyes at the question. Of course, the first thing that he would want to know was how I was faring.

"Like I've just been run over by a truck." I replied jokingly, wincing at the slight ache between my thighs as I shuffled up slightly so that I was sitting next to him. The covers sliding down as I sat up, revealing the bare skin of my torso. I heard him take in a wincing breath as he took in the upper half of my body. I glanced down at myself, self-conscious, and was surprised to see that my torso was covered in the mauve of angry bruises.

Ah.

It wasn't that I didn't hurt, not at all. There was an ache all over my body, almost like the day after a long run, but it certainly didn't match up to the Jackson Pollock painting of purple and red that covered my pale skin.

"Shit." He swore, raising his hand hesitantly to lightly trace over a particularly angry bite mark on my shoulder, "I'm sorry, Alex."

I swatted his hand away, rolling my eyes, "There's nothing to apologise for, Spock." I said, honestly, "I feel fine."

"Please," he said, his voice almost pained, "Please don't tell me you're fine. I should have warned you-"

"I'm a fucking doctor, Spock. It's not like I didn't know that this was going to happen..."

" _Almost_ a doctor," he injected, but I shot him a look and he shut up.

"I know what Vulcan sex is like. It was basically the third module in my course. I knew what to expect, and to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised."

He flushed green at that comment, embarrassed as the memories of last night came flushing back to him. I smiled at the colour that rose to his ears. I was never going to bore of making him blush.

He smiled slightly and leant over, giving me a long, languid drawn out kiss before pulling the covers off himself and walking towards the bathroom. After a few minutes, I heard the shower burst to life, and I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands. I winced as I clambered out of bed, searching for the clothes that I was wearing yesterday. I found my pants and trousers crumpled up in a pile in the kitchen, and my bra in the sink alongside my shirt, which was still caked in blood. I shimmied into the trousers and bra, then walked back into Spock's bedroom with the intent of nicking a shirt.

He was stood in the centre of the room in nothing but a pair of regulation black trousers, hands on his hips, turning around as if he were looking for something.

"Lost something?" I asked, a smirk on my face.

He spun around to see me, his eyes widening in appreciation as he took in my state of undress. For a guy who literally had his head between my thighs last night it was complementary to know that I was still attractive to him with no make-up and my hair a rat's nest, standing with my arms folded in my shitty $5 bra.

"My PADD." He explained to me, before turning back and looking behind him. The lean muscles on his back almost glistened with the light sheen of shower-water that they were still coated with. He froze.

"Alex..." He said in a warning tone, still facing away from me, "You remember that conversation we had yesterday?"

Ah yes. The mind meld that we shared. Meaning that what I felt, he felt. I should probably stop looking lustfully at his back muscles, then...

"Right. Yep. Got it." I answered, embarrassed. The corner of the Professor's PADD peeked out from under my discarded towel from last night in the corner of the room, and I walked towards it and picked it up, weighing the heavy contraption in my hand.

"Looking for this?" I asked, and he turned around and smiled in relief, walking towards me and taking the PADD from my hands, brushing his fingers on mine, but this time, unlike the others, not snatching his hand away.

"Thanks." He muttered, sitting down on the end of the bed and switching it on, pointing to the dresser by the side of the room, "You can borrow a shirt if you want. Your other one is still quite..."

"Bloody?"

He nodded, and I walked over to the dresser, pulling out a plain black shirt and slipping it over my head, rolling the too-long sleeves up, before sitting next to him on the bed, looking over his shoulder at the bright screen of his PADD.

He glanced at me appreciatively, his eyes roaming over the way that his baggy shirt lay on my body.

"That looks good on you."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise at his statement, but decided to accept it nonetheless. A compliment from a Vulcan wasn't something to be taken for granted.

"What are you looking at there?" I asked him, trying to decipher the code on his PADD screen. He gave me a look I knew all too well, his eyebrow raising.

"This year's exam papers." The corner of his mouth quirked, "Technically it breaks Teacher/Student protocol for you to be seeing these..."

I rolled my eyes and planted a kiss on his cheek, before standing up and walking to the kitchen.

"I'm pretty sure banging a fifth year breaks Teacher/Student protocol as well, Spock."

I heard him snort at that as I walked out.

"I don't think protocol applies when it comes to you, Birchwood." he muttered, almost to himself.

I fished a glass out of one of the kitchen cupboards and filled it with water, sipping pensively before glancing up at the clock on the wall, which read 10:30. I walked back into Spock's room, glass of water still in hand.

"I think I'm gonna head off." I said, and he looked up at me, an expression of mild surprise on his face.

"Why?" The way he said it made him sound almost disappointed.

"I didn't text T'yonga last night," I explained, "She's probably going to think I've been mugged or something."

He nodded in understanding, placing his PADD down and standing up, walking towards me, the slightly damp skin of his bare chest still slightly glistening. My throat constricted as he got closer to me. Even after everything that had happened, he was still able to put me in a trance.

"Anyway..." I continued, my voice breaking ever so slightly as he strode over to me, almost predatorily, "I have some maths homework in for tomorrow, and my maths teacher can be a total wank-biscuit sometimes."

He rolled his eyes at that, taking the glass of water from my hands and placing it on a dresser beside him, standing so his bare chest was touching mine, the water from his skin leaking into the fabric of my borrowed shirt. I had to strain my neck to look up at him.

"Are you _ever_ going to tell me what that _means_ , Alex?"

I pulled a face, "It's a British thing..."

He raised an eyebrow, non-verbally asking for an explanation, and I continued, embarrassed.

"Okay, so you know what a wank is?"

He smirked, rolling his eyes, breaking my gaze for a second, " _Yes_?"

"And you know what a biscuit is? An _English_ biscuit? Not those scone-things that you guys have?"

"It's a cookie, right."

"Mm hmm," I nodded, my face flushing as I realised what I was going to have to explain to him "Alright, so a group of guys get a biscuit, and they all gather around the biscuit and wan-"

"You know what, I don't think I want to know..." Spock cut me off, smirking. It was strange, seeing him so comfortable smiling around me. From an early age, I had always associated Vulcans with logic and truth, but never emotion. I assumed that it was his human side, the side that he tried so hard to hide, finally coming through the cracks during our time together.

He raised his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive purple mark that he had etched onto my neck. Almost in slow motion, he brought his face down to mine, touching our lips together effortlessly. He buried his face in my hair, his breathing coming faster than I had expected.

"Thank you, Alex." He sounded earnest, and I knotted my eyebrows, confused.

"What for?"

He pulled away, placing his hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, his dark ones and my light ones, contrasting colours, contrasting worlds.

"For helping me to understand myself."

He smiled at me again, a beaming grin. I would never get used to that. The sight of his smile. It was pure light.

"You should be going. Don't want that math teacher to find a reason to punish you."

I was certain that his words were meant as nothing but a bit of banter, but I couldn't help but hear the double entendre in them.

I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

"Don't tempt me, Spock."

He flushed green as he understood my meaning, the colour reaching the tips of his ears as he stammered out an explanation, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

I reached up on my tiptoes to peck him on the cheek, before walking away, grabbing my bloody shirt from the sink and taking one look behind me at the bedraggled Vulcan that I had unintentionally given my soul to. I smiled to myself as I saw him, perfectly imperfect, and gave him one last wave as I walked out of the door, closing it quietly behind me.

Of course, now I had to sneak out of the teachers' lodgings without being caught...

* * *

Please please please with cherries on top tell me what you thought! Too fluffy? Not fluffy enough? I'm here at your beck and call, reveiw, reveiw, reveiw! XX


	28. Sticks and Stones

I'm gonna pre-apologise because this Chpater is basically ALL ANGST.

Also, I'm secretly chuffed with the Title of this Chapter, because I am a mental 5 year old and love a good pun. If anyone can figure out the joke in the title, ten points to you x

* * *

ALEX'S POV

To my credit, I very almost managed to get the whole way out of the teacher's building without being spotted by anybody.

Almost.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, and was just about to walk through the double doors into the chilly morning air, I heard a voice behind me that made me freeze in my tracks.

"Treebeard?"

Shit. Not now. Leonard goddamn McCoy really knew how to time his entrances badly. I pretended to not have heard him, continuing to walk, hoping that he would drop it, but I heard him scoff behind me, and knew I was done for.

"Treebeard, what the hell are you doing here so early?"

I rolled my eyes and winced. Evidently, I wasn't going to be able to get out of this as easily as I had thought. I turned around to see a very confused-looking Leonard McCoy in jogging gear, holding a bottle of water. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he took in my red face, shocked that he had been right in his assumption.

He was left speechless for a second, before regaining his composure. My heart was in my throat. Sure, Leonard had caught Spock and myself in his office, but actually _staying the night_ was a big step up. I wasn't sure how he would take it.

"What are you doing here so early?" He repeated his earlier question. I rolled my eyes, appearing to look nonchalant whilst my sleep-addled brain desperately fought to come up with a reasonable explanation that didn't involve canoodling with a member of the faculty.

"Ah," I said, giving a laugh that sounded anything but convincing, "I came in early so that Professor Spock could go over partial differentiation with trigonometry with me."

He paused for a split-second, seeming to believe my story, and I inwardly sighed in relief. At least that was one less thing I had to worry about. He nodded, seeming to accept my explanation, and held up his water bottle to me in what looked like an invitation.

"I'm off on a jog, care to join me?"

I smiled and shook my head.

"Leonard, I can't walk up a flight of stairs without getting out of breath. I'd slow you down considerably if I tried actually _jogging_."

He smiled at that.

"Your loss,"

And walked past me towards the set of double doors, brushing past me as he did so.

He froze, and turned to look at me, an expression of shock on his face.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked.

"That's his fucking shirt, Alex."

My heart stopped.

Damn.

"I…ugh…" I muttered, decidedly less confident than I had been before. Leonard's eyes travelled to my neck, which was bare above the neckline of the shirt, which hung low and baggy on my shoulders.

He winced.

"He's a biter. That's something I didn't need to know."

I flushed red almost instantly, covering my neck with my hand, mortified.

"Jesus, Leonard…"

He rolled his eyes at me, a disapproving look on his face as he realised that I had, indeed, stayed the night.

"Alex…" He begun, a warning tone in his voice.

"I'm 23, Bones." I interrupted him, "Don't you have anything better to do than lecture me?"

He looked taken aback by my comment, almost hurt by it, and I regretted it immediately. From my fist day in Starfleet, Bones had always been there for me. It wasn't fair for me to take the out on him.

"I'm sorry-"

He shook his hand, waving away my apology, his face cold.

"Do what you want, Alex. I just don't want you to get hurt." His voice was impassive.

"I'm not _going_ to get hurt. Spock's a good guy-"

"He's a _Vulcan!_ " Bones yelled. I was surprised by the emotion in his voice, he was furious at me, "I can deal with you fooling around in his Office, but _this?!_ " He gestured with one hand to my bedraggled state, and I felt myself flush crimson again, pulling the hem of the v-neck shirt slightly higher, trying to hide the purple bruises that littered the top of my torso.

"They don't _do_ love, Alex. They just don't. I don't want you to expect things from him that he won't be able to give you…"

" _Half_ -Vulcan." I replied, scathingly, pissed off. Bones had no right poking his nose into my personal life. I was well able to make decisions all by myself, thank you very much, "He's half-human, Len, I'm pretty sure that he can 'love' just as well as anybody else."

Leonard took a step towards me, his face twisted.

"I just want the best for you, Alex…"

"You're not my fucking _dad,_ Bones."

He froze at that, and I instantly realised that I had gone too far. Leonard was the closest thing that I had to family in America, besides T'yonga. Even when I was younger, in my first few years, and I had had boyfriend troubles or arguments with my friends, Leonard had been the one that I had gone to. He had helped me out of a state of depression three years ago when I found out that Jeremy, my last boyfriend, had been cheating on me with not one, but two different girls. I didn't know if Leonard had children himself, but I was almost certain that he viewed me as something close to one.

He let out a long sigh.

"Make your own mistakes, Alex. I'm done clearing up after you."

His words went straight through my gut. They sounded far too final for my liking. I stood, rooted to the spot, my feet unable to move.

"Bones-"

He gave me a look that shut me up directly, and I broke eye contact, not wanting to see the pain that he was trying to hide in his eyes.

"My name is Dr. McCoy, Cadet. I would appreciate it if you used it."

And with that, he turned from me, walking through the doors in silence and setting off on his jog, leaving me stood in the hallway, my eyes stinging. We had had arguments before, but never like this. A deep pit had seemed to replace my stomach, and I left the Teacher's Lodgings with a hole in my heart.

* * *

SPOCK'S POV 

Spock picked up his copy of Othello and plonked himself down on the sofa, glancing at the clock on the wall. Alex had left an hour ago, and he already missed her, as stupid as that was. As _human_ as that was.

He hadn't meant for events to go the way that they did when he had asked her to go out for a meal with him. His intentions, he told himself, had been entirely honourable. He had just wanted to show her a taste of Vulcan culture.

The corner of his lip rose in a smirk as he recalled her reaction to Vulcan food, much the same as he had reacted to trying tea… polite disgust. He didn't blame her, Vulcan food wasn't for everyone. It was bland, 'tasteless' as some may call it. He preferred to think of the flavours as 'subtle'.

He ached all over, a dull pain that throbbed just outside his peripheral vision, but beyond all of that, he felt…

 _Happy._

It was such an unusual feeling for him that he had spent half an hour that morning meditating over it, wondering if the strange sensation in his chest was due to a lung infection. He rolled his eyes at himself and opened up his book. Despite Vulcans not usually reading for pleasure, Spock thought that it was an important part of assimilation into human culture. That was definitely the reason that he had read the entire 'Twilight' series during his Summer break… to help him to better understand human culture…

Although he couldn't understand _why_ Bella had chosen Edward when Jacob was so _obviously_ better for her.

He jumped in shock as he heard three very loud raps on his wooden door. He placed his Shakespeare down and pushed himself up from the couch. If Alex had forgotten something, it wouldn't surprise him… it would give her a reason to see her again, which was always good. He walked over to the door, a cocky grin on his face, and opened it, only to suddenly be met by a searing pain in his left eye.

He stumbled back, disorientated, his hand to his face, and looked up to see Leonard McCoy, dressed in jogging gear, step through the door and close it quietly behind him, before striding over to Spock and grabbing him by the shirt-front. What Bones lacked in height in comparison to Spock, he made up for in muscle mass, as he almost lifted Spock's feet off the ground as he grabbed him. He brought back his fist for another punch. Spock reacted quickly, bringing up his hand to block the blow, and responding with a palm-heel to Leonard's neck, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to stagger backwards, hand on his throat.

"You fucking green bastard…" Leonard muttered, up righting himself, getting his breath back. Spock stood up to his full height, feeling a bead of warm blood drip down his cheek.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Leonard snorted out a laugh, and spit out a globule of blood onto Spock's floor. The Vulcan tried not to wince as he thought about how much it would stain the cream carpet.

"The meaning of this?!" Leonard asked, his voice like ice as he came forward for another punch, this one to Spock's stomach. He managed to parry to the left, but slightly too late, and the Doctor's fist caught him in the side, directly over his kidney. Spock winced in pain, and brought his hand back, with the intent of performing a nerve-pinch on the doctor, but Leonard was expecting it, and forcefully slapped Spock's hand away, before delivering another neat punch to Spock's chin.

"The meaning of this…" Leonard hissed, pulling Spock closer to him by his shirt front, so that both men were face to face, "Is that _you_ promised me that you'd keep it in your fucking pants, rather than _dipping your wick_ in the student body."

If Spock's face hadn't been green already from the blood, his blush would have been even more obvious, but as it was, Leonard could hardly see it. Spock should have seen this coming. Right from the beginning, Leonard had been by Alex's side. He was almost paternal in his protection of her, Spock should have realised that he would eventually find out about them.

The Vulcan brought his hands up between the two of them and pushed, shoving Leonard backwards and casing him to stumble. His face was a mess, a cut on his forehead and a thick bruise beginning to form on his throat, where Spock had punched him earlier. They were certainly both going to be an interesting sight at Starfleet tomorrow.

"I didn't do anything that she didn't want me to-" Spock begun. Instead of calming Leonard down, as he had intended to, Spock just seemed to have made him even angrier. He muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Son of a bitch…" and up righted himself, brushing himself off.

"I do not see what my mother has to do with this, Leonard…."

Bones walked towards him, his face thunder, until they were face to face, breathing heavily, their blood mingling on their shirts, green on red.

"If you hurt her-" Leonard began, "If I catch wind of her even being _moderately dissatisfied_ with you… I will kill you. I'm a doctor, don't think I don't know how to pull of an inconspicuous murder."

His voice rang with truth, and Spock had no doubt in his mind that Leonard was perfectly capable of going to extremes to protect the people that he cared about. The doctor took a step back, and brushed a droplet of blood out of his eye, before turning from Spock and walking to the door. He turned back when he reached it, and the look in his eyes was pure fire.

"Don't test me, Pointy."

There was no sound of jest in his voice.

With that, he left, closing the door with a loud bang behind him, leaving Spock stood alone in the quiet room, panting heavily. He lifted his hand to his forehead and winced as it came away green, covered in blood. He let out a deep sigh, knowing that he couldn't report Leonard for the incident. What would he say?

' _Excuse me, Pike, but Leonard launched a physical attack on me because I slept with a med student.'_

He'd be kicked out of Starfleet before the bruises on his face had even started to heal.

It was better to leave the event as it was.

He just had to be sure not to piss Alex off…

* * *

What time is it? ANGST-TIME. i totally listened to avenged sevenfold the whole way through this chapter that is the reason for such anger.

the whole way through that fight scene my little shipper brain was going 'make them kiss, make them kiss,' but NO THIS IS NOT A SPONES FIC DO NOT DO THAT

Hope you enjoyed x


	29. Vulcan Kisses and Swollen Faces

**ALRIGHTY HOO im back. Hello everyone. I missed you.**

 **First of all, thank you to everyone who left comments, I love you all, you're fantastic.**

 **Secondly, if anyone reading this is a Mervel fan, I've recently started a Winter Soldier? OC Slow-Burn fanfiction (In a similar style to this one, but with more assassins and swearing) so if you want to check that out, or if you already have, thank you very much. Alright on with the story.**

* * *

T'yonga only agreed to give me a lift into College if I relayed every single detail about Saturday to her.

And I mean every _single_ one.

"I didn't know Vulcans had so many biting kinks…" she muttered as she manoeuvred her small car through the gridlocked morning streets, "I guess it makes sense, though. The possessive element to it."

I flushed red and covered my face with my hands. Evidently, I wasn't going to get away with sleeping with a member of the faculty as easily as I had thought. T'yonga had, thankfully, got over her betrayal by Jim Kirk relatively easily. She was still pissed off with him, and rightly so, but she wasn't letting it impact her life. I had to hand it to her, she was handling the whole situation very well.

"I'm pretty sure he started speaking in Vulcan half way through, 'Yong…" I admitted to her, and she practically crashed the car as she whipped her head around to look at me in surprise, an expression of pure delight on her face.

"That's fucking gold."

I rolled my eyes, "Keep your eyes on the road T'yonga. You better not get us both killed because you can't keep your filthy mind in check."

She chuckled and regained control of the car, sliding neatly into a small parking space in the College car park, parking expertly.

"That's really hot though," She killed the engine and looked at me, "What did he say?"

"Do I look like I can speak Vulcan?" I asked incredulously, a smile on my lips, "It was complete garbage to me, I have no idea."

She laughed at that, and slid out of the car, gesturing for me to follow suit. She locked it with a quick click of her keys and we set off to the maths building, our first lesson of the day, together. I had made the executive decision to wear a polo neck, the thick blue fabric covering the fair few bruises that littered my neck. The last thing that I needed was for Leonard McCoy to see those again. I still felt guilty for what I had said to him in my fit of rage, and was planning on trying to make it up to him during Dissection today.

T'yonga noticed my off-mood.

"Thinking about bones?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. If course, I had told her everything that had happened between the two of us, and she was worried for me. She knew how close the doctor and I had been.

"Yeah." I admitted, the steady thump thump of my shoulder bag hitting my thighs as I walked the only interruption in our conversation, "I feel guilty, ya know?"

"Don't," T'yonga almost scolded, "He had no right poking his nose into your business the way that he did."

I rolled my eyes again, turning a corner and walking towards the large double doors of the maths building. T'yonga followed suit. Today she had opted for a new pair of heels, bright red to match her short dress, and her coppery curls had been piled up onto the top of her head carelessly. She had gone all out today, dressing to impress. I couldn't help but think that her plan was to show Jim Kirk what he was missing.

"What if he's right."

The sentence came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and T'yonga looked at me with something akin to confusion in her brown eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"What if he's right about Spock. What if it was just a possessive thing, and he doesn't really do love?"

The question had been eating into me all week and it felt good to finally say it. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't worried about what Leonard had said. Vulcans were creatures of logic, and the things that Spock had done to me on Saturday night… well… they certainly didn't seem logical at the time. T'yonga shook her head adamantly, placing a manicured hand on my shoulder and stopping us in the middle of the corridor, letting students file past us.

"Do you remember at Jim's hearing? When he mentioned you to Spock, and the guy looked as if he wanted to rip Jim's throat out through his neck?"

I nodded, holding back a slight chuckle at the memory. That was the day that Jim had got into a shit load of trouble for fucking around with the Kobyashi Mary. The day that Spock had extended the hand of friendship to me, and requested that we work alongside each other as acquaintances.

That didn't last very long.

"I've never in my life seen a guy look at me the way that he looked at you that day, Alex." T'yonga continued, "It was intense… weirdly intense if I'm honest. I don't know what you're worried about, but I can pretty much guarantee that he's not going to leave you for a slightly prettier, slightly taller, slightly greener version of yourself."

I raised an eyebrow.

" _Greener_?"

Her face reddened slightly in embarrasement. Trust me, if you've never seen a green girl blush, it's quite an amusing sight.

"Okay I may have been talking about Jim there."

"May have been?"

"Was definitely."

I rolled my eyes at her.

"He's a twat. Put him from your mind, 'Yong. Relinquish him."

She made a mock-peaceful expression and raised her palms upwards, closing her eyes.

"Relinquishing…"

I laughed and punched her lightly in the shoulder.

"Stop pissing around. I'm being serious. Let the guy go, he's not worth all of this."

She nodded at me, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

"Okay, you're right. Asl always."

Glancing at her watch, her eyebrows rose.

"Shit. I'm late." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and spun on her heels, running to her class. I begrudgingly sighed and begun my walk up to my maths classroom. My satchel was heavy, weighing me down. I arrived at five to nine, and sat down in my assigned place, looking around myself. Spock wasn't here.

That was unusual.

"How's everything going?" A chirpy voice from my right came, and I smield to myself, turning sideways to see Jackie, her curly blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She gave me a grin.

"As well as can be expected given that I have finals in three weeks…" I muttered back, pulling a face. She laughed at that.

"Ooooh man, I feel that. I don't know what the hypothalymus does, let alone how it does it."

I snorted. I had been up to my eyes in studying for the last 3 months, but none of it seemed to be going in. My best hope for finals was a miracle.

At two minutes to nine, the door opened and a stern, "Get out your calculators." Echoed around the room. Well, he was here.

Spock walked to the front of the classroom and faced the interactive whiteboard, his back to us. Something was wrong. I could feel the irritation rolling off him in waves.

"Turn to page 56 in your trigonometry books," He said, and turned around. The whole class took in a shocked gasp, including me. The left side of his face was infuriatingly perfect, as always, but there was a thick bruise completely coating the right side of his face, and his eye had almost swollen shut underneath it. At the base of his hairline was a large gash, dried up with green blood. He gave the class a hard stare, daring somebody to speak.

"Is there a reason why you aren't turning to page 56 in your trigonometry books?" He asked, and immediately the class reached into their bags and pulled out their workbooks, not willing to face his wrath. With a satisfied nod, he sat behind his desk, pulling out a wad of papers from one of the back drawers and placing them on the smooth wooden surface with a distinct slam.

The room was silent.

I pulled my book out of my bag and opened it on the correct page, before looking directly at Spock, trying to get his attention. His head was buried completely in his work. I sighed to myself.

" _What in the fuck happened to your face?"_ I thought, unsure of how to work the mental bond that we apparently now shared. He remained impassive, looking down at his work with complete concentration. I tried again.

" _Spock, why do you look like the Hulk used you as a punching bag_?"

Still nothing. Mentally, I tried to reach out to him.

" _Do you want a steak to put on that bruise?_ "

He let out an audible gasp, sitting up ramrod straight, looking at me in shock, his eyes wide. I could see that his shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, he was breathing heavily.

" _How… how did you do that?"_

I looked around me at the rest of the class, but they all appeared engrossed in their work. I looked back at Spock and shrugged, an expression of confusion on my face.

" _I literally have no idea."_

The corner of his lip quirked up but he quickly regained his composure and his face returned to its usual stoic mask.

 _"What happened to that lovely face?"_

I saw him roll his eyes, well, his good one at least, but I didn't fail to notice the slight green blush that crept up his cheeks.

" _Your good friend Leonard McCoy decided to make sure that I treated you properly."_

My eyebrows rose in shock and I sat up straighter in my chair. Surely he wasn't being serious.

" _Bones did that to you?"_

He nodded silently, a grimace on his face.

" _In my defence, I don't think he looks that great today either."_

" _Oh my God_."

He let a long burst of air out through his nose, and I couldn't help but stare at the bruise. It looked ugly, Bones must have given him a sturdy right hook. He noticed my gaze, and gave me a small smile. The rest of the class was still working, apparently unaware of the internal conversation that was happening in the same room as them.

" _Don't worry. It's not that sore."_

" _I wasn't worrying."_ I shot back at him. I leant my elbow on the desk and cupped my head with my hand, tilting my head sideways and looking at him from a different angle, " _I think it's pretty hot."_

His eyebrows raised and he coughed loudly, clearing his throat in surprise. A few of the students looked up at him in shock at the unexpected noise, and he glared at them.

 _"Get back to work."_

I hid a small smile and turned my eyes back to the open booklet in front of me. The questions seemed simple enough, basic trigonometry. I took out my pen and started writing.

A few minutes passed in silence, before I heard a cheeky voice say, " _Nice sweater_."

I rolled my eyes, refusing to look up. The blue polo-neck may not be the height of fashion, but it was certainly doing a good job of covering up the multitude of hickeys on my neck. Spock knew very well why I was wearing it, and I felt a smug sense of satisfaction exude from him as he took in my irritation. He found it amusing.

" _Unlike you, Spock, I'm not in the habit of putting my bruises on full display."_

He chuckled at that, a strange sound echoing in my head. I'd got him there.

" _Careful, Birchwood. Talking with disrespect to a higher member of staff could land you in trouble._ "

" _I like trouble."_

He let out a long sigh.

 _"That's what I'm worried about."_

I quirked an eyebrow at him, but he merely shook his head slightly, and continued with his work. What the hell did that mean?

The lesson finished on time, of course, and I begun to pack up my satchel like the other students as soon as the bell rang, not wanting to be late for my next lesson. The last thing that I needed was to give Bones another reason to be mad at me.

" _I'm going to sort this out."_ I tols Spock as the students filed out of the classroom, he looked up at me in shock.

" _Be careful, Alex._ "

I rolled my eyes and walked towards the desk, waiting until the last student had left the room before putting my hands flat down on the surface in annoyance. Spock jumped slightly at the unexpected movement, and his eyes travelled to my fingers. He swallowed heavily, and immediately my mind was full of mental images that I was _not_ prepared for. I snatched my hands off the desk, almost laughing out loud.

"Whoo. Okay, I get what you mean by 'control your thoughts'." I snickered, and to my satisfaction he blushed furiously and averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry. The hands-"

"The hands, yeah. My bad." I apologised, putting them behind my back, trying to cool down the red blush that I was positive was all over my face.

"I'm seeing Bones next period," I explained, and he sighed. He raised an eyebrow, but winced slightly as it jarred the painful bruise that covered one half of his face.

"He seems angry at you, Birchwood."

"That's why I'm trying to fix it."

Spock nodded at me in understanding. Leonard was my friend, and I wasn't keen to throw away our friendship over a misunderstanding.

My mind wandered back to one of the first lectures that I had ever been in. Vulcan rituals. It was taught by a fat Gorn woman, who seemed more interested in shouting at the students than actually teaching them anything, but there was one thing that definitely stuck in my head. I looked at Spock and smiled, and he wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, but I brought my hand up to him, extending my first two fingers.

He sat back in his seat, amused.

"Alex?"

I proffered my hand.

"You wanted me to get into Vulcan practices. Well. Shut up and kiss me."

He smirked, but to his credit, said nothing and raised his hand, lightly touching his fingers to mine.

"Thank you." His voice was surprisingly earnest, and I shook my head.

"No problem. Now. I'm off to go and see how much worse Bones looks than you."

Spock rolled his eyes, but before he had a chance to reply, I had turned on my heel and walked out of the room, satchel in hand. My fingers were still tingling slightly from the 'Vulcan Kiss', and I shook my hand as I walked down the corridor. I had a doctor to see.

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 **PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU LIKED IT (Ans also check out some of my other stories, theyre not that shit. I promise.)**


	30. The Final Frontier

**I can't believe it. After about 8 months, this baby is finally finished (And don't worry, I don't mean completely finished! I plan on writing a sequel documenting Alex and Spock's time in space) But for now, I'm afraid this is goodbye. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review.**

* * *

My fingers were still tingling slightly by the time I walked into the Dissection classroom. I was greeted on sight by Su Ling, who naturally was carrying a fully formed pair of Gorn lungs.

"Nice…" I muttered to her as I pulled my lab coat from my satchel and placed it on a hook, shrugging the long white fabric onto my shoulders and fastening the buttons at the front. The last thing that I needed today was to get bodily fluids on my jumper.

"Oh, sorry…" She laughed, as I followed her over to a small table, where she placed the lungs down gently, "I totally forgot I was carrying those."

I snorted out a burst of laughter to myself. I understood what she meant. In dissection, it wasn't unusual to get so caught up in work that you ended up carrying body parts all around the room.

"Brains!"

The loud shout caused me to jump slightly, and the entire class turned to stare at the front of the room, where Leonard McCoy had just entered through the large double doors. Spock hadn't been lying when he had mentioned Len's face, there was a scar on his jaw, the left hand side of his lip was split open and… were those _finger marks_ on his neck? A mumble of uncertainty rolled around the classroom, but a quick stare from the doctor soon shut everybody up.

"To be alive is to have a brain, and guess what I've brought for you today?"

He grinned and pulled out a large plastic bag from his rucksack, slipping on a pair of latex gloves and pulling out an extraordinarily large brain from the bottom of it. I looked at Su Ling, but she seemed as confused as me.

"What the hell kind of alien is that from?" She whispered, but I merely shrugged. I had no idea.

"Can anyone tell me what organism this comes from?" I noticed that Leonard was looking everywhere except at me, his eyes roaming the entire classroom, but skipping over mine intentionally.

A hand shot up somewhere behind me, and the corner of Bones' lip curled up in a smile, only enunciating the deep gash underneath it. Spock must have fought back pretty hard, by the looks of the aftermath of Bones' face. What the hell had he been thinking, trying to fight a Vulcan? It was common knowledge that they had not only superior strength, but also enhanced speed and agility. Either Bones was insane, or he had actually been so angry at Spock that he hadn't cared about the repercussions.

"Looks like a Talosian brain, Sir."

A mumble of shock ran around the classroom. Talosians were almost extinct, the only remaining ones living in underground caverns and hiding places after a nuclear disaster all but destroyed their homeland. How in the shit had Bones managed to pick up one of their brains? Despite my anxiety at having to eventually confront him, I couldn't help but stand up a little straighter, excited to get a closer look. A Talosian brain was an incredible thing. They were a species that had the power of illusion, the power to create incredible fantasies and mind-tricks. To get to dissect one… that was something that hardly any med student could claim to have done. This was going to be an interesting lesson.

The class split up into groups, and Leonard called each student up in turn to have a look at the Talosian brain, leaving the rest of us to our own devices.

Su Ling grabbed a scalpel and begun chopping up the lung, looking for the bronchioles. She looked at me, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Did you see the doctor's face?"

I sighed to myself. Evidently, this wouldn't go as unnoticed as I had hoped. I put on a face that I hoped looked slightly confused, and replied, leaning my elbow on the desk,

"Shit, yeah. What do you think happened?"

"Sex game gone wrong?"

I snorted out a guffaw of laughter at that answer. She looked at my doubtful expression and gave me a wicked grin.

"Sex game gone _right?"_

I rolled my eyes at her and took a closer look at the brain, my face flushing. If only she knew how close she had come to the answer. The reason that Leonard's face looked like a boxing champion's was certainly to do with sex, just not _his_.

"Whatever it was, he looks kinda hot beaten up…" she mused, and I chuckled at her. She wasn't the only one of the students to be attracted to Len. If I had to hear T'yonga say the word 'lumbersexual' one more time I was probably going to punch her.

"Su Ling Kent," Bones yelled, and Su Ling gave me a cheeky wink, sauntering off to Bones' desk, leaving me alone with a lung, a scalpel and my thoughts… a dangerous combination. I decided to make the most of my time, and begun dissecting what remained of the lung. Gorns had unusually large bronchioles, and it was interesting to see the inner workings of the respiratory system. Despite that, there was still a sense of unease in my gut.

I was wondering if Bones would even call on me at all, or just ignore me after what I had said to him on Sunday. After a few minutes, Su Ling returned to our little table, her face practically flushed with excitement.

"Holy crap, Alex, you should see the cerebellum on that thing. It's unreal."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Birchwood." Leonard called.

Ouch, not even 'Alex'. I sighed inwardly and pushed myself up off the desk, slowly walking towards the front of the room, where Bones was leaning against the large table. He saw me coming and averted his eyes. I braced myself for the worst.

"Can you see the hypothalamus, here?" He asked me, pointing to the inside of the pre-dissected brain, refusing to look me in the eyes.

"Bones…"

"What can you tell me about the comparative size of the cerebral cortex?" He ignored me and continued talking, not looking up.

" _Bones,"_ I said his name again, with slightly more emphasis. He raised his eyes to look at me, and I noticed a small bruise at the corner of his forehead. His eyes were blank.

"What can you tell me about the comparative size of the cerebral cortex, Cadet?"

 _"_ Bones, I'm _sorry."_

He stood up straight, one of his eyes slightly swollen shut by the bruise. He raised a single eyebrow.

"Cadet…" there was a warning tone to his voice but I ignored it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said the things that I said. I was wrong."

He looked behind us to see if anybody was taking interest in our conversation and, satisfied that nobody was, turned to me again, annoyance in his eyes.

"Cadet, this isn't the time or the place…"

"Oh for God's sake, Bones." I muttered, "I know you. If we don't sort this out now we never will."

He rolled his eyes slightly, and removed his hands from the large brain on the desk.

"Also," I continued, "Did you _seriously_ get into a fistfight with a Vulcan?"

He snorted humourlessly at my question, and gestured to the multitude of bruises both on his face and neck.

"What does it look like?"

I raised an eyebrow as I took in his injuries. His neck was covered in a long thin bruise that looked almost like the splayed fingers of a hand.

"Did he choke you?" My voice was serious.

"No. He just spear-handed me to the neck."

"Shit…" I breathed out in sympathy. Vulcans had a much higher muscle to fat ratio than humans, a punch to the throat from a Vulcan… that must have hurt.

"If it makes you feel any better," I continued, and he looked at me, his eyebrow quirked, "Spock looked like he'd been run over by a freight train this morning in maths."

Leonard let out a smug snort.

"That makes me feel a little better, Treebeard."

The use of his old nickname brought a smile to my face. Perhaps I wasn't fully forgiven yet, but at least he'd stopped calling me 'Cadet', like he didn't even know me. I leant over the desk to take a closer look at the mess of brain tissue on the slab in front of me.

"Where in the hell did you get a Talosian brain, Len?"

He merely tapped his nose, a smug smile on his face.

"If this is from the black market I swear to you-"

"I got it off a guy at the pub."

My eyebrows raised in shock.

"A… A guy at the pub?"

Leonard shrugged and picked up his scalpel, turning one side of the brain over, looking at it intently.

"Yeah, I won it from him in a game of Blackjack."

"Who in the shit bets a Talosian brain in a game of Blackjack?"

Bones gave me a look that said 'do you really want to know?', and I sighed and rolled my eyes. I guess I didn't.

"Look at the cerebellum on this thing…" he said to me, pointing to the lower base of the brain, at a large nodule of slightly darker tissue. He was right, it was a beauty.

"Holy crap." I muttered as I got a slightly closer look. Su Ling was right, it was incredible. Unlike in a human brain, where the blood vessels were so small they were almost invisible, this brain had a thick purple vein running directly through its centre. Bones saw me looking at it and nodded in appreciation.

"Nice, huh? It's to oxygenate the inside of the brain."

I nodded in interest, looking closer. The cerebellum, a small nodule at the base of the skull used to control voluntary movement and balance, was absolutely necessary to any organism. I had to hand it to Bones, this was an interesting lesson.

"Where's the medulla oblongata?" I asked, still searching through the tissue trying to find the small tube-like appendage that controlled the autonomic nervous system, things like the regulation of breathing and the heartbeat. Bones pointed it out to me and smiled.

"Right there. Isn't she incredible?"

I had to nod. She certainly was.

"Definitely."

He gave me a smile, and somehow, in my heart, I knew that all had been forgiven. I was a bitch to him before, and he in turn had tried to beat up the guy I'd just slept with. I considered us on even ground.

I wiped my sticky hands on the lab coat, trying to get the brain residue off my gloves, when a loud booming voice ran through the room via the overhead speakers, making me jump.

"Can all Cadets and Staff please report to the Shuttle Hanger One. I repeat, can all Cadets and Staff please report to the Shuttle Hanger One immediately. We have just received a distress call from Vulcan."

My eyebrows raised in shock. A distress call? I looked at Bones, wondering if this was some sort of drill, but he merely shrugged. He didn't have any idea either. The room was in uproar, all the students looking to Bones, panicked, wondering what to do. I was in the same position. The poor man looked terrified.

"Do as it says, report to Shuttle Hanger One."

The class quickly dispersed, and I followed suit, not even giving myself time to remove my oversized lab coat, still with parts of brain tissue attached. I grabbed my satchel and slung it over my shoulder, running to keep up with the rest of the class.

One thought was going through my head.

'Spock.'

His home planet had sent out a distress call. Where was he? Was he alright? I didn't have time to answer these questions, as I was pulled along with the throng of students, all practically running to get to Shuttle Hanger One.

This was unheard of. Shuttle Hanger One contained the best ships that Starfleet had to offer; The Farragut, The Oddesy, even the much sought after USS Enterprise. Surely they couldn't be expecting us to actually go out and fly those things? We hadn't even sat our final exams.

I rounded a corner, and joined the worried looking congregation of Cadets standing in the loading bay of Shuttle Hanger One. There was a stern-looking woman calling out names and corresponding ships from her PADD, and slowly but surely, each student was filing off to go to their designated Starship.

This was all happening too quickly. I didn't understand what was going on. They were really going to send Cadets out into space to help Vulcan?

"Cadet William Burke, USS Farragut."

"Cadet Janie Mitchell, USS Oddesy."

"Cadet T'yonga Nt'ongo, USS Farragut."

I saw a quick flash of green skin and red hair as T'yonga walked towards her assigned Starship. The Farragut. Lucky her.

"Doctor Leonard McCoy, USS Enterprise."

"Cadet Alexandra Birchwood, USS Enterprise."

I froze. Had I heard correctly? The Enterprise was the most prestigious ship in the whole of Starfleet, surely there was some mistake? But no, the woman had definitely read my name out. I took a deep breath and walked towards the Enterprise, catching the eye of the doctor as I did so. He noticed my worried expression, and nodded his head at me encouragingly.

Like that made me feel any better.

"Cadet James T Kirk, USS Enterprise.

Oh you had to be kidding me.

The all-too familiar smirk of the increasingly irritating Jim Kirk flashed at me from across the landing bay as he walked up the USS Enterprise, seeming far too pleased with himself.

"Commander Spock, USS Enterprise."

A small weight in my stomach lifted as I spotted Spock, his face still bruised, walking towards me purposefully. The weight returned immediately, however, when I saw the look on his face. For anybody else, he would have seemed entirely at ease, but I knew him too well. His shoulders were clenched, and his lip was pursed into a tight line. The man was very worried.

This was it. I was _actually_ about to set off on a mission. I was still having difficulty believing it as I stepped onto the ship, heading immediately to the medical bay. I was going to be spending a considerable amount of time there, I may as well scope it out. It was a good quality, big enough to fit at least three operating tables if that was necessary. Bones walked in behind me and sighed.

I quirked an eyebrow.

"Is it just us?" I asked, confused. Surely they must have assigned more than two medical officers, one of them not even officially a doctor yet. Bones sighed and pushed his hair away from his eyes.

"It appears it is, Cadet."

I let out a short huff of breath. That couldn't be good news.

This was my first time on a Starship, and, though it wasn't under the most ideal conditions, I had to say that I was impressed. The place was enormous, even the medical bay was more advanced than anything I had ever seen. I could tell that Bones, even though he didn't want to admit it, was feeling the same levels of awe.

There was a loud rumble from beneath us as the engines sputtered to life, and Bones let out a sharp exhale, followed by a low curse. I raised an eyebrow.

"Not a fan of flying?"

"Fuck off." He looked as if he was about to be sick. That answered my question, I guessed. He sat down on one of the medical beds, and I gave a sympathetic smile. Flying wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

Cup of tea.

Spock.

Shit. I'd almost forgotten about him. He must be on the main bridge now, as the Commander of the ship. I gave Bones one last sympathetic glance, and left the medical bay, almost running through the thin white corridors in a desperate attempt to get to the cabin. I reached it in record time, breathing heavily as I entered the small room, packed with people. Spock was stood in a corner, ramrod straight. His eyes flickered to me as I walked in, but apart from that, made no evidence of noticing my presence.

" _Are you alright?"_ I asked him through our mental bond. I wasn't sure if he had heard me at first, he didn't show any outward signs of it, but after a few seconds, I heard a response resonate through my skull.

 _"My mother… she's on Vulcan, as well as my father."_

 _"They'll be fine."_ I promised, not entirely convinced myself, _"We'll reach them in time, They'll be fine, Spock. Don't worry."_

He scoffed at that, and I guess I understood his point. It was difficult to tell somebody not to worry when their whole home-planet was in danger. He gave me a tight smile, and I nodded, satisfied with his response.

"Alright. Let's get this baby off the ground!" A voice that I knew all too well came from the Captain's chair. My heart dropped to my stomach, as it swivelled around, and I was stood face to face with the smug smile of Jim Kirk.

"You have to be kidding me…" I muttered, and he winked.

"I don't do kidding, English…" He responded, and I knew that he was telling the truth. My new Captain was… James Tiberius Kirk?

Oh God, we were all going to die.

He spun his chair back around, and barked an order to the tall Asian man sat at the controls.

"Sulu, all power to main thrusters."

I grabbed hold of a railing next to me as the ship rumbled into life, slowly rising from the ground.

This was really happening.

This was really happening. After five years of medical training, I was going to go into space. I couldn't have imagined myself in this position at the beginning of this year. To think that on my first day, all I could think about was how much I wasn't looking forwards to having a maths class with a Vulcan, and now, here I was, trying to save the home planet of one that I loved.

The world really did move in mysterious ways.

There was a lurch as the ship sped up, and my grip on the railing tightened slightly as we left the Earth's atmosphere. I glanced over at Spock, and saw that he was already looking at me, his dark eyes boring into mine.

 _"We're going to be alright, Alex."_

Maybe he was right. Maybe we would get to Vulcan in time to prevent whatever was happening there. I still couldn't believe it. Even as I watched the stars fly past the widow of the bridge, and I looked out into the empty expanse of darkness. I still couldn't believe that I, little Alex from London was finally here.

On the Enterprise.

With the man that I loved.

Heading off into Space. The Final Frontier.

* * *

 **ALEX WILL RETURN (PROBABLY) AND SHE'S GONNA KICK SPACE-ASS DOING IT**

 **Please tell me what you thought. My babies are finally going to Space!**


	31. To Boldly Go

Well hello there everybody! No, I'm afraid this isn't the sequel (i'll tell you when it's up, I promise!) This chapter is just to say a few thank yous!

I'm **overwhelmed** by the amount of follows and reviews that this got _(THIS STORY ACTUALLY HAS THE MOST REVIEWS FOR ( **SPOCK/OC PAIRING** ) STORIES ON THIS WHOLE WEBSITE AND IM **SHITTING** MYSELF)_ (Incidentally, it's 2nd for followers and 7th for favourites) and i can only say THANK YOU HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER

Also, thanks thanks thanks to all of these people,

Becky- My absolute belter of a best friend and the inspiration for T'yonga. (sorry i put you on the farragut hun)

Ruth- Sin Captain of the Seven Seas, and the best smut writer this side of the Pacific. I raise my glass to you.

Erin- Who has literally never seen Star Trek but read the whole of these anyway because I asked her to look for typos. U the real MVP.

And finally, to you, if you've stuck with this mess of trigonometry, alcohol consumption and questionable tastes in Christmas presents till the end. Love you lots, T'hy'las xxxx

 **Also, to the following people, whose reviews have kept me going!**

Guest: I dont know your name but you've left like 8 reviews that are about 3 paragraphs long each with in-depth analysis of subplots and character developments and i think im in love with you.

RayOfTheDawn: Muchos Muchos gracias thank u very much

alliesmiley2: Thank you for all the reviews they made me grin like an idiot

Love. Fiction .2016: I give you my gratitude and a thousand vulcan kisses

Lady Ravanna: guurl u been here since the beginning thank you for keeping me calm and helping me write on ;)

macywinstar: SINCE CHAPTER 1 UVE BEEN GIVING ME SUCH LOVELY REVIEWS WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE YOU

Ryuno Chu: For your Vulcan knowledge (thank you for that btw) and general loveliness

Absynthe Verte: A million kisses to u many thanks for all the lovely reviews

AmericanWordsmith: Thanks for the VERY helpful reviews, i super appreciated them x

Ismira Shadeslayer: *sings out-of-tune* Youuu are sooo beautifuuullll to meeeeee (thank you for all your lovely reviews)

debateable-cerealkiller: For the coolest URL and the super nice reviews

 **and to anybody who reviewed and I didn't mention, thank you SO MUCH you've kept me going! XXxxx**

 **Onwards and upwards, my good buddies.**


	32. Flame Me At Your Own Discretion

This isn't a chapter, I'm afraid. I plan on writing a short intro to the next story during the next few months, and will pop it up here as soon as I do to let you know when the sequel is coming out, but this Chapter is actually written as a response to a not particularly nice review that I recently received. The writer of said review probably won't read this, but I feel like I have to say something.

You're probably all wondering what it was that the review said. Well, it went a lil' something like this:

 _'I barfed while reading this, but I still can't get the shitty tang of mary sue off my mouth. Ick'_

I don't usually respond to reviews, but I think that yours makes a special exception. _Firstly_ , I have no problems whatsoever with people who don't like my work. By all means, hate it as much as you like. What I DO have problems with, however, is when people express their distaste as ineloquently as you just have with 'hurr durr mary sue', instead of making an actually constructive review that could better my writing. I have nothing wrong with reviews that are negative, in my opinion, well-structured criticism is the best way to improve a story, but I do have a problem with people who leave bad reviews just to be an arse.

As for your implication that Alex is a Mary Sue, well, she certainly shares some Mary Sue traits, e.g. she is very intelligent, but I assure you that you would be hard-pressed to find a character in ANY story that didn't share a single Mary Sue trait.  
As for Alex, however, there are MANY features integral to a Mary Sue that she lacks entirely:

1\. **She's always right** \- Well this is bullshit before we start. Alex makes many bad decisions throughout the story, one of them nearly leading to her expulsion. She gets drunk far too often for it to be good for her, and is stubborn to a fault.

2\. **Everybody (especially the love interest) thinks that she is incredible** \- I don't know how much attention that you paid throughout the story, but Spock and Alex don't actually make skin to skin contact until Chapter 14, and pretty much hate each other up to there. There is no 'love at first sight' moment in this story, and the two main characters actually think that the other is a complete tool for a good proportion of time.

3\. **She is INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL** \- Alex is nowhere near flawless. She's a bit chubby. Her hair is a mess. She often finds herself outshone by T'yonga, her beautiful Orion roommate. Mary Sues are always stunningly beautiful. Alex isn't ugly, but she's certainly not a person that people would look at twice if they crossed her on the street.

4\. **She's special or powerful** \- Alex is a human. An ordinary run-of-the-mill human , who just so happens to have a penchant for mathematics. She isn't the 'Chosen One'. She doesn't have any powers other than the ability to make quite a good lasagne.

5\. **She has a dark or mysterious past** \- She's from Peckham. Get over yourself.

6\. **She is always the main focus of the story.** \- There are many other characters who also have interesting storylines in this work, e.g. T'yonga, Jim, Jackie, Leonard. Not everything is always about Alex all of the time.

7\. **She is a one-dimensional character whose only job is to fall in love** \- Alex is smart. She's focused. She's funny and caring and occasionally a bit of a bitch. She's willing to do anything to get where she wants to be and doesn't take well to being disrespected. She is certainly not one dimensional, and this story is as much about her journey to becoming a doctor as it is about her romance with Spock.

8\. **She has an interesting or unusual name** \- She is literally called Alex but thank you for trying.

With the greatest amount of respect, why leave a review telling me how shitty my characterisation and plot is on the 30th and Final Chapter. You must have read the whole way through. That can't have been an incredibly pleasurable experience for you, giving that you apparently 'barfed' every bloody chapter due to the incessant 'Mary-Sue-ness' of my entirely not Mary Sue Character.

Whoo. I'm sorry about that rant, but I'm awfully protective of my characters. I've been writing this story for about a year now, and have put an awful lot of time and care into it, so it kind of pisses me off when somebody leaves a negative review with no constructive criticism, apparently just for the reason of causing harm .

To everyone else who has stuck with Alex for the last 30 Chapters, thank you so much, I really appreciate all that you have don (following/reviewing/favouriting) as it's really kept me going :)


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